


Probable Cause

by ASmallGirlWithBigDreams



Category: Castle (TV 2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASmallGirlWithBigDreams/pseuds/ASmallGirlWithBigDreams
Summary: A Castle Winter Ficathon 2020 entry: What if the morning after Always 4x23, Beckett isn't there. Instead, Castle receives a phone call from Espo to come to a crime scene of someone they know. When one of their own becomes the prime suspect, the team slowly uncovers there are greater forces at play. NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Caskett. T rated for now, possible future angst.#CastleWinterFicathon2020
Relationships: Javier Esposito/Lanie Parish, Kate Beckett/Richard Castle
Kudos: 15





	1. Part I: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place roughly around the end of 4x23, but is AU. For the sake of the story, let's say that Ryan didn't go behind Esposito's back and Esposito didn't get himself suspended. Kate informed the entire team, she still almost died but they were able to capture Maddox and no one got suspended. The case itself is not relevant to this story. That's about all you need to know. Enjoy!

His eyes were closed. But only just. A sharp ray of sunlight had managed to sneak between the blinds and hit his eyes precisely. He grumbled, moving his body sideways. His arm laid out stretched as a sudden jolt went through his body. The images of last night entered his mind; her lips on his. Her against his door, her on the couch, them both on the ground before finally finding the comfort of his bed. He couldn't believe it had finally happened. After four years of full pining after her, they'd kissed. She had turned up at his doorstep, soaking wet, kissing him, apologizing, begging him for forgiveness. He had pushed her away at first, angry and confused. But when she spoke, explained how she had almost died and all she could think about was him, she just wanted him. The words had been a melody to his ears. With the crash of thunder, he had pushed her against the door, letting free the four years' worth of pent up tension and emotions. It was poetic to say the least. He had never expected anything less from their first time. She was Kate Beckett. The most incredible, maddening, challenging, frustrating person he'd ever met. Every time he thought he had figured her out, she'd do something new remarkable that would knock him of his feet.

He stretched out his arm, and the jolt returned. He opened his eyes. He looked over sideways to find his bed to be empty apart from himself. Maybe she had woken up earlier than him; she must be an early riser, he imagined. Maybe he did in fact dream it. He went with his hand through his hair, shaking of this idea. He had dreamed about her numerous of times and was sure enough to know this hadn't been a dream. He had never been able to imagine something as perfect as what had transpired in the early hours of that same day. Where was she? He swung himself out of bed, blindly, and was met with a stabbing sensation in his right big toe. He looked down and saw a bra. He definitely hadn't dreamed it. He reached for the black laced bra and placed it on the chair in the right-hand corner. He passed the mirror in the process and noticed a red mark right under his jawline. He came closer to the mirror and realized that his night with Kate had come with the adolescent prize of an old-fashioned hickey. His finger lingered on the red mark, reminiscing on her soft lips, sucking that exact spot only hours prior.

He was brutally woken up from his daydreaming when his phone went off. He looked around in an attempt to locate his phone. Following the sound towards the kitchen, he held his breath ready to face Kate. But when he entered the sun-bathed living and kitchen of his loft, it was empty. A sinking feeling went through him; she must have left. Finding his phone in between the cushions of his couch, he picked up the phone.

“Castle,” his voice grumbled, not fully awake yet.

“Hey Castle, have you heard from Beckett?” Esposito's voice asked on the other end of the line.

“No, why? What's up?” worry trickling into his voice. The sleepiness that had fuzzed his brain only minutes earlier had now been replaced by a sudden alertness. Did they know, he wondered. Did they know that after this incredibly difficult case, Kate had come over to his and spent the night?

“Listen, something's happened. It's best she doesn't come. Can you make your way to 116th and Lex?”

Without waiting for a reply, Esposito cut the line. Castle stood alone, in only his underwear, his heart racing faster with every gulp of air. Whatever had happened, he had enough experience with the NYPD to know by now that it didn't promise any good. He put the address into his phone and quickly got dressed. He headed out, the only thought that kept repeating itself in his head was what had happened and where the hell had Beckett gone off to. He didn't dare to ponder on the latter too long though, as an obnoxious feeling started to fill his gut; what if she was embarrassed after what had happened last night, and she'd bolted?

When he finally reached the address, it was already after 9. He had gotten stuck in the morning commute. He'd kept a close look on his phone the entire time, wondering when he'd hear something from her. But his phone remained blank. There were two cop vehicles parked on the side road, and yellow tape struck on both sides of the street. He could see Ryan taking statements from a hotdog vender. He looked serious; but Castle couldn't tell if it was his usual crime scene demeanor, or something else was challenging the detective this morning. Castle ducked underneath the tape and was met by Esposito.

“Who's the vic?”, Castle asked, with more curiosity than he'd normally have for what at first seemed a rather ordinary crime scene. Lanie and a few detectives stood huddled around a body behind a pair of dumpsters. From the heels that were sticking out of the side, he deduced it was the body of a woman.

Esposito's face was harsh. He was never really ecstatic when discovering a new body, but this time was different.

“What's wrong Esposito. Is Beckett ok? Where is she?” He pushed Esposito aside, trying to get a better view of the vic.

“Hey, calm down, lover boy. If something were to have happened to Beckett, you'd think we'd be here all calm taking people's statements? Believe me, bro, I wouldn't be here if she'd been hurt. Besides, I asked you if you'd seen her, didn't I?”

The words of his partner vaguely rendered, Castle still not convinced Beckett was ok. He moved Esposito's hand away and saw the woman lying on the ground. She had brown curling hairs, and her face – thank god, it wasn't Kate. Getting over his initial worry, he analyzed the rest of the body. There were two large, gashing stab wound to the chest, one to the abdomen. Her shirt was torn; her fingers were bloody. His eyes moved upwards again to her face. And then everything fell into place. He recognized her; given, her hair had been blond last time he'd seen her, but it was undoubtedly her. Madison Queller, Beckett's old high school friend and restaurant owner of Q3. She had been part of an ongoing murder investigation when Balthazar Wolf, the restaurant's head chef, had been murdered. She had caused a fair share of Beckett jealousy when Castle had gone out with her. No reason for jealousy anymore; he thought, immediately regretting his train of thought. He cleared his throat, directing his eyes to Lanie who was still crouched next to the body.

“So, what can you tell us about the murder, apart from the obvious cause of death? You think this was a robbery.” He pointed to her ripped clothes, and the lack of a purse or jacket.

"Well, like you, I initially assigned cause of death to these wounds, but then I found this." She moved her head sideways.

“A needle mark?"

“Yes, and given the lack of blood on the scene, I'd say she was drugged and killed somewhere else before she was dumped here.”

“CSU canvassed the area in search of a purse of wallet. So far nothing,” Esposito filled in.

“So, not a robbery. What did she get herself into; how did she end up here? I'm having trouble to accept that Madison would ever be above the three digits, let alone without any purse or accessory.”

“The hotdog concession stand owner found her about an hour ago. He hides his little truck in this alleyway since he's got no other place to go. When he made his way to work today, he discovered her when pushing away his cart,” Ryan had just finished getting the owner's statement; he closed his notebook.

“I asked CSU to pull surveillance cams, it's a small shot though. In this neighborhood, they are often more damaged and out of order than not. Same with statements. I've knocked on some doors, but no one has reported any unusual activity. One guy told me he'd only report unusual activity if the streets would have been quiet.”

“So, what's the game plan here, guys. Has anyone contacted Beckett? Do we have any leads?”

“I will go the morgue to pinpoint the exact time of death. Looking at her fingers, whoever tried to hurt her; she put up a fight. Maybe I can find some DNA-traces of the murderer under her fingernails. I also hope toxicology will help us determine the substance that most likely killed her.”

“Ryan, you head back to the precinct. If those traffic cams worked last night, I'm positive they'll shed some light on the situation. Castle, you and I will go to Madison's apartment, maybe we can find some evidence that can point to the reason of her murder. If we're lucky, we'll also find the murder scene.” Esposito started heading towards his car, but Castle stopped him.

“And what about Beckett? Lanie, have you heard from her? We can't not tell her?” Castle asked, his voice higher than usual. They all exchanged worried glances.

* * *

“It makes no sense. Her phone is almost never off,” Castle had tried calling Beckett over ten times now;

“You've reached the-”

“Voicemail, again.”

“I'm sure there's a solid explanation, Castle. You saw how much this last case affected her. Maybe she's just home with a hangover.” They were in Esposito's car, one block away from Madison's apartment.

“A hangover, Beckett? She's come to precinct worse than that. Even if she'd have a hangover, it's 10. She never sleeps in that late.”

They were at a red light, Espo turned his head sideways.

“You're right. After we've swiped Madison's, we'll pass by her place.”

* * *

It had taken them 45 minutes to make it all the way from East Harlem to Greenwich Village, traffic slowing them down as usual. Madison lived on the third floor of an apartment with a doorman. Nerves were hitting Castle. He didn't know what it was exactly, but something was off. When they arrived on her floor, his heart skipped another beat. The doorman who'd let them in had told them she shared the floor with only one other tenant, but that he was out of the country on a business trip. The hallway had two doors; Madison's was ajar.

“Back up Castle,” Espo took out his gun and placed a hand on Castle who hid behind him. Next, there was a crashing sound that came from behind the open door. Espo took out his walky.

“This is Detective Esposito, here at 6th and Waverly Place. We're on a house search, the door has been left open. Possible robbers inside, we're going in.”

The sounds continued. Espo moved cautiously towards the door and ordered Castle to stay behind. Castle's heart was beating in his chest. He'd been on dozen house visits where there had still been someone inside, surprising them. But all of these times, he'd been with Beckett. It's not like he didn't trust Espo; but, somehow, he felt safer knowing he had her for company.

Esposito took a deep breath before kicking the door further open.

“NYPD,” he yelled, going through the door. More sounds of pots and pans breaking. “Hold your arms where I can see them.” With this, Castle felt like it was safe enough to enter the apartment too. The place had been completely searched; pillows had been cut open, files and pictures were lying everywhere.

In the kitchen, there was what appeared to be a woman. She had brown, long curly hair. She turned around her arms in the air.

“Beckett?" Castle's mouth fell open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the following two chapters lined up, so will probably publish them real soon. This is my first time writing Castle fanfic, so I hope I do the character's justice. If you like it, please leave a review. They are a good motivation to keep writing this story. The story I have in mind will be around 10-20 chapters; so let's hope I hold myself to it, and we’ll go on the journey together x Happy New Year.


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your positive responses so far, for the likes and follows. I’m excited and will try to post as soon as the chapters are ready. So far I have in mind to write one once a day, and publish the one I had ready. But as all good resolutions go, let’s see how this one will pan out : )
> 
> Disclaimer: They aren’t mine. Otherwise I’d be called Andrew Marlowe, which I’m not.

“Could you stop pacing?” Espo scolded from across the room. They’d been standing behind the one-way mirror for the last ten minutes, of which Castle had been pacing around the room for a solid nine of them. 

“Bro, we hate it just as much as you do. It’s not right. It makes no sense. But if it were the other way around… if she’d find us in that situation, she would have been the one standing behind this mirror and we’d been in there.” Espo glanced side-ways. Beckett was sitting at the desk in the interrogation room. Her hair was a mess, as if she’d been rolling around, fighting. She was wearing what used to be a white buttoned up shirt, but it was now covered in blood. It wasn’t right. Not one bit of it. When Castle had entered Madison’s apartment, he’d never guessed what he was about to find. When they’d heard noises coming from the kitchen, he was sure it must be Madison’s killer, or at least the person who’d caused the rampage that was Madison’s apartment. But it was her. At Espo’s demand, she’d turned around, hands in the air. She looked disoriented, frantic. Her shirt was half open, blood all over. She had a bloody knife in one hand which she dropped immediately at the yells of Espo ringing in Castle’s ears. He couldn’t believe any of it. There must be an explanation. If there was one, she didn’t give one. Instead, she complied when Esposito took out his handcuffs and placed them around her wrists.

“Katherine Beckett, you are under arrest for the murder of –”

“You gotta be kidding me. Espo you can’t be –”

“Castle, this is not the time for any interruption.”

“But you can’t honestly think she’s got anything to do with it; Kate?” His voice had risen at least two pitches, his eyes pleading searching for any reassurance in Beckett’s eyes, or a nod maybe that would ease him and tell him that this was all just a big misunderstanding. But Kate didn’t even give him so much as a glance; even more so, it seemed like she wasn’t even there.

“Kate?” he tried again. His voice dropping; desperate.

“Katherine Beckett, you are under arrest for the murder of Madison Queller. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court …”

* * *

“So, what happens now. Who’s going in there?” Castle had finally stopped pacing. He had decided to find solace in the comfort and coolness the corner of the table provided for him, refraining himself from any further movement. Refraining himself from pulling open the door of the interrogation room, running over to the table, grabbing Beckett by the shoulders and shaking her into a reasonable explanation for everything that had happened in the last couple of hours.

“Given the situation, the Captain will go in there with an impartial by-stander who will act as witness, in order to make sure that no evidence or account can be tampered with.” Ryan, who had just entered the room, informed them. He was about to go sit next to Castle when Esposito eyed him a look. Instead he went to stand a bit to the side, to make sure he wouldn’t stand in the way of Castle’s view.

What he wouldn’t give to be in the room with her. While her face had been hard to read at the apartment, she was open book now. She looked concerned, worried. Her eyes peered straight ahead, right into Castle’s. He knew she couldn’t see him, nor know that he was sitting there. But he liked to believe that she could sense it. _You’re going to be ok, Kate. There’s an explanation for this, I know there is._

Suddenly, she turned her face to the right. It was small, but he could see how she tensed up for a second, before relaxing again at the sight of Gates entering.

“Detective Beckett, this is Detective Michael Sealey. He will be auditing this interrogation and serve as an impartial by-stander to make sure this interview happens in orderly fashion. Could you please give verbal confirmation that you have been made aware of your rights and have accepted the offer to ask for an attorney, who will by the way arrive shortly, and that you furthermore accept the position of Detective Sealey’s as auditorial witness to this interview?”

“Yes, I have been made aware of my rights and I allow Detective Sealey’s presence.”

“Excellent, then we will sit down and wait for your attorney to arrive.” They had just gotten seated when the door opened and Beckett looked up again. Her eyes showed a certain sense of familiarity at the sight of whomever had entered the door, and like Castle guessed, Jim Beckett entered the frame.

“Captain Gates, Jim Beckett, Kate’s attorney.” They shook hands, went through the formalities of introducing themselves to each other, and eventually Jim got seated as well. If he was worried about his daughter, Castle couldn’t tell. He looked as calm as he mostly was when Castle met with him, but Castle was sure that it was all but a front. He’d seen Mr. Beckett scared in the past. When Kate was shot last year, his eyes had been in pain, pleading. A man in mourning of his only daughter. Whatever had happened or was going to happen, at least right now, his daughter was rather safe. And this was his job.

Without noticing he had been holding his breath, at the sight of Beckett’s dad, Castle’s tension resided a little. He was still anxious, the feeling reinforced every time he dared to glance at her worried face, but at least he knew she was not alone in there. If there was anyone he had to choose to sit beside her in this situation other than him, then he’d choose her dad, because he knew the kind of relationship the two of them had. 

“So, what exactly is the reason for this questioning Captain. I did not get the time to get myself acquainted with the case.”

“Your client was found with bloody clothes and the presumed murder weapon in her hand in the apartment of our victim, when Detective Esposito and consultant Richard Castle arrived on the scene to search the apartment for evidence.”

“You say presumed murder weapon. So, this could just as well not be the knife that killed your victim?”

“The knife in question is currently being tested in the lab and compared to the wounds found on the body.”

“Her bloody clothes; has my daughter received a medical check-up? Who says this blood isn’t hers and the knife she was holding in her hand was out of self-defense?”

“We will do a medical check-up if necessary, but seeing as the door was ajar, and there was no one else near the scene, all the evidence so far suggests your client was illegally trespassing the apartment of our murder victim, while holding a weapon similar to the wounds found on the victim’s body. As for the clothes, we would like to request them for DNA-testing which will helps us in the proceedings of our investigation.”

“No problem. If someone can go get my sport clothes from my locker, I’m more than happy to give you my clothes right away.” It was only the second time Castle had heard her speak since they had found her in Madison’s apartment. He didn’t know what he had expected, but the fact that her voice was calm reassured him that they were going to get through this, and the explanation was only minutes away from being told.

“Excellent. Detective Ryan will immediately take care of that; let us in the meantime continue with the interview.” Ryan grumbled besides them as he headed to the door, cursing himself for having to leave the conversation to get his partner some clothes. Right before he exited, he turned around again.

“Any of you know her code?” He half-smiled.

“0204,” Castle replied instantly. Both detectives looked at him in surprise.

“It’s her mother’s birthday,” Castle shrugged.

Esposito was just about to make a comment when Mr. Beckett’s voice caught their attention again.

“Before we continue, what is the relation between my client and your victim? Isn’t there a clear explanation as to why she was in the apartment which, if I understand correctly, wasn’t even where your victim was found?”

“The victim is Madison Queller, who I have come to learn was an old high school friend of your client.”

“Madi’s dead?” Mr. Beckett turned his head towards his daughter, who was still staring straight ahead, straight at Castle. For a second, Mr. Beckett’s stern lawyer face dropped as it was replaced by that of a concerned father. A sting went through Castle’s body. Of course, Mr. Beckett had known Madison. He’d probably seen her often when Kate was still in high school, had heard of the tales as she and her daughter grew up and became young women, had heard she had become the owner of a high-end restaurant. He had probably gone to eat there with Beckett, to show support for one of Beckett’s oldest and closest friends.

“As to the location where we found our victim,” Captain Gates elaborated – Mr. Beckett’s glanced back to Captain Gates, once again providing her with a stern attorney look Castle was familiar with – 

“no, she was not found in her apartment. But given the evidence, we are of the believe her apartment was in fact the murder scene.”

“Then where was she found?”

“She was found in an alley of 116th and Lex.”

“That’s East Harlem. Madi would never go there, she’d have no business there. Her life is in Greenwich; her parents live in upstate New York. Furthermore, my client was about a hundred blocks south from where Madi was found. Are you suggesting my daughter murdered her high school friend in her own home, then moved her all the way to East-Harlem without being seen by anyone, to then return to that same apartment, so she could hold the murder weapon when her colleagues would barge in? That doesn’t seem to make much sense Captain. I may just be a lawyer, and not a detective, but my daughter is one. And as I have been told by numerous of her colleagues, you included, she is a hell of a detective. She wouldn’t be so stupid to hang around the apartment of her victim, holding on to the weapon while she’s at it. So, tell me, Captain, what good evidence really do you have at this point to arrest my daughter for the murder, might I well add, of her closest high school friend?”

“Dad, it’s ok.” Beckett quickly glanced sideways, placing a calming hand on her father’s fist that had made its way forcefully to the table in the midst of his little outburst.

“No, it’s not Katie; there’s no –”

“Dad,” she gave him her Beckett glare; the one Castle had come to hate and love over the years, the one he had perfected to evoke and tease out of her over the years.

“Mr. Beckett, I understand your concern, and we will get to the bottom of this. This is a highly unusual situation, and believe me when I say that I like it just as little as you do, but, this is an ongoing investigation on – as you said – your client’s oldest and closest friends. You cannot take offense when all we are doing is our jobs; we are trying our best to find whomever killed Madison and bring them to justice. Your daughter somehow got mixed up in all of it, and we would like to know exactly in what capacity. Now, if you’d let us, I would like to ask your client why she was at the apartment of our victim, why her clothes are bloody, and why she was holding a knife which my team just confirmed match the wounds on our victim.” 


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a lot of writing done today, and I'm happy how it's going so far :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I still do not own these characters. I wish! I did steal some lines from the show, from the actual episode in which this story's timeline takes place. Other than that, all the words are mine.

"Captain?" The door had opened once more, Ryan standing in the door frame. "I've brought the clothes you've asked for. There's also something else you should know."

Gates looked up, her head flicked between the two Beckett's and then back to Ryan.

"Excuse me for a moment," she got to her feet and left them to the room. Soon after, the door of the observation room opened and Ryan, Lanie and Captain Gates entered.

"Lanie? What are you doing here?" Castle asked optimistically, temporarily forgetting the seriousness of the situation.

She shook her head grimly, and instead faced Captain Gates, whose face did not reveal as much as a smidge of what she was thinking.

"What news doctor Parish? Anything that can prove Beckett had nothing to do with it, and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"I finished my initial exam on the victim. As I suspected, she was drugged. I am waiting on the results from the toxicology report, but I can say with high certainty that the drug that was administered, was our COD. I took a closer look at the stab wounds; they match the knife Beckett was holding, and were made postmortem to make it look like a robbery. As I had assessed at the scene, our victim fought whoever her attacker was. I looked for traces underneath her fingernails, but my findings were inconclusive."

"What do you mean inconclusive, Lanie? I'm sure if you try a little longer you can find out exactly whose it is?" Esposito proposed flirtatiously. This earned him a death stare from Lanie.

"Whoever Madison fought with, the killer tried to cover their tracks. Apart from the needle mark, and the stab wounds, her body came up completely clean. As if they knew what we'd be looking for. I'll give the traces I found under her fingernails another go, but I'm not hopeful. Is she ok?"

It was for the first time that Lanie had looked at her surroundings, spotting Beckett still wearing her bloody shirt.

"What is wrong with you people? Letting her sit there, in those clothes. Not only does she have evidence, but my poor baby sits there as if she's a suspect?"

"Lanie, you said the stab wounds were made after she was killed. Do you think Beckett might have made th-?" Ryan asked, trying to deflect the tension in the room.

"Wow, Ryan. You can't be serious. Lanie, weren't there other prints on the knife?"

Castle turned to her pleading.

"I'm sorry Castle, but no. So far, all the evidence points to Beckett. As long as we haven't found the syringe that was used to inject the poison, the only evidence we have implicates Beckett."

"Lanie, you and I both know Beckett would never do such a thing. She-" Castle attempted to say.

"Mister Castle," Gates interrupted. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that this here makes no sense. But we are detectives. We follow the evidence-"

"But-"

"the evidence, Mister Castle, wherever it may lead. Now, we have wasted enough time as it is. Doctor Parish, I take it it would beneficial for everyone to have you do a check up of Detective Beckett?"

Lanie nodded and with that made her way to the interrogation room.

"Detective Ryan, any luck with the surveillance footage?"

"So far no luck. As suspected, all cameras in the area were either disabled, or broken."

"What about Madison's place?" Castle offered.

"What about it?"

"Madison lived in a well-guarded building in Greenwich village. I'm sure they must have high-end surveillance cameras."

"Very well. Detective Ryan, get those tapes so we can finally figure out what the hell is going on. Go through their phone calls, see if Beckett and Madison had been in contact lately. Detective Esposito, did they find anything useful at either scene? Let them canvas a bigger area if need be. We need to find that syringe. And what about Madison? Go talk to her colleagues, her family. If we can piece together what Madison was up to, we can figure out where Beckett comes into play. Maybe Madison was in trouble at work, who knows. If something happened I want to know."

"On it, Sir."

"And what about me?" Castle asked.

"I suggest you go home, Mister Castle. And before you try to talk your way out of it, take my suggestion as a kind order. I have my best detectives on the job. Detective Beckett trusts them with her life. Your partner is on trial right now, and you, Mister Castle, are only a consultant. Go see your family. Take a nap, you honestly look like you need it. Detective Esposito will text you when they've got something."

"Yeah bro. Go see Alexis. Didn't she graduate last night?

"Yeah, she did," Castle responded absentmindedly.

"Congratulations man. You must be proud," Esposito patted him on the back.

"Yeah, very," he said while he left the room.

"You know he isn't going home, right? He's probably going to Madi's restaurant as we speak," Esposito noted.

"Oh, I agree. I do not always agree with Castle's wild theories and childish behavior, but if there's one thing I have learned this year it's that he would do anything for the people he cares about. And what he does isn't half bad. Especially when he is ordered not to. It seems to fuel this man's drive. So, if by ordering him to go home, he finds a lead or clear explanation for this mess, then that's how I will order him."

"It seems like you almost care for him, sir." Esposito smirked, but quickly retracted it when he saw Gates's iron face.

"If you tell anyone what I just said, I will deny it."

"Noted, sir."

"Now go to the restaurant; the faster we get this thing over with the better."

* * *

By the time Esposito had made his way over to Q3, Castle had already talked to a few of the restaurant staff.

"Yo, Castle," Esposito beckoned.

Castle was just shaking hands with the head chef when he heard his name. He looked up, his face busted.

"Hey Espo. I was just passing on my way home for some takeout. Alexis really loves this place. The risotto is to die for."

"Relax, Castle. You really think Gates believed you when you agreed to go home that easily? Just tell me what you've found."

"Right. The chef told me that there was nothing out of the ordinary. When I asked him whether Madi was under a lot of stress, he said she was but that it simply came with the job. She came in every day around noon to start with the day's schedule and never left before 2, as she always wanted to be the last one to lock up. The cheff had just started to get worried when I came in."

"Anything about her personal life? Financials, family? Maybe a new partner in her life?" Esposito asked, scribbling some notes down.

"No. As far as he knows, Madison lived and breathed the job. They never talked about her personal life. If there were any financial problems, the staff for sure wasn't aware of it."

"Alright, thanks Castle." Esposito closed his notebook and headed back to the street.

"Wait, that's it? What's our next move?"

"I'm going to talk to the family, see if they know something about what she did besides running one of the top restaurants in lower Manhattan. Talking about top restaurants, weren't you bringing Alexis some risotto? Really man, Lanie's been nagging me for ages to take her to this place. And you just come in and get takeout?" With that, Esposito left the restaurant. Castle still heard him mutter under his breath that sounded vaguely as "famous people and their privileges."

* * *

"Oh Richard, where've you been? I've been calling you for the last hour", was the first thing Castle heard when he entered his loft. Having put his phone on silent during Beckett's interrogation, he saw he had twenty missed calls:

"Really mother, twenty? Someone better be-"

As he walked into the loft and took in his surroundings, he saw Alexis sit at the kitchen island, hands in her hair with a glass of water next to her.

"Alexis, are you hung over?"

"Now Richard, you would have known if you would have bothered to check your phone. The graduation festivities got a tad out of hand. Alexis called me from the party, I drove into town, and picked her up. So please don't get angry."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I tried, you didn't pick up," Alexis grumbled.

"Honestly, Richard. You can't blame the girl if you decided to go AWOL. Now, care to explain why we couldn't reach you all morning? Does it by any chance have to do with a certain brunette?" Martha's eyes slightly glimmered.

And so Castle retold his morning minus Beckett having spent the night. He hadn't given the event any thought since they had found bloody Beckett with a knife in Madison's apartment. In any case, now didn't seem like the perfect time to tell his mother and hungover daughter that he finally had slept with Kate, especially since he hadn't been able to see let alone talk to Kate himself.

"Oh Richard. Is she alright? Are you alright? They don't actually think she's involved, do they?" Martha's face was trickling with worry. Alexis who had taken a few aspirins was dozed out on the couch.

"I don't know mother. They all keep telling me they are just doing their jobs, and Beckett would have done the exact same thing if one of them were a suspect. But that's the thing, it makes no sense. None of them would ever be in such a situation. Especially not Beckett. The only way I could imagine Beckett killing someone, it would be to protect someone else," or the person behind her mother's death, he added silently. "Kate wouldn't kill her friend. And if by some inexplicable reason, she did, she wouldn't be standing in her friend's searched apartment, covered in blood with a knife in her hand waiting for the cops to show up."

"So what will you do, Richard?"

"I need to get to the bottom of this."

"What about Captain Gates?"

"She hasn't kicked me out yet. As long as she'll let me, I'll be at the precinct. And if not, I will have to work from here." Castle started putting his jacket back on. He walked over to the couch where his daughter was snoring ever so lightly, and he placed a kiss on top of her head.

"I brought some risotto for Alexis. Give it to her when she wakes up. And make her the juice, you know which one I'm talking about. And if she needs to pu-"

"Go Richard. Alexis will understand. I will take good care of her. Now you go take care of Katherine."

"Thanks mother," he weakly smiled. He allowed himself one last glance at his daughter before he left the loft.

"Twelfth precinct", he said, as he entered his town car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know exactly what the manager of a restaurant does on a daily basis, but I imagine they have to work most of the time. As for Lanie and Esposito, I am not entirely sure about when they are off or on again. So, I decided for the sake of this story that they are together. I like them together more anyways.


	4. Part I: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing the entire day yesterday, which led me to a night full of vivid dreams. I have six chapters in total so far, and I think I'm about half way the story. Hopefully I get to finish it this week, because I told myself I will start working on my thesis from next week onwards. If only the words would flow as easily in my thesis as they do here. In any case, enough about me, back to the story (yes I rhymed on purpose).
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine blablabla.

By the time Castle had returned to the precinct, the energy in the bullpen seemed to have shifted drastically.

"Damn it," Ryan cursed as he pushed the telephone back into its holder with force.

"What's wrong?" Castle worriedly asked, following Ryan to the murder board. He started scribbling some notes on the time line they had created since Castle had left the precinct. TOD was placed between 4 and 5 am, the time of discovery was set around 8. Castle deciphered Ryan's scrawny hand writing, missing Beckett's elegant letters already.

_Beckett gets phone call at 3:30_

_Beckett arrives at Madison's at 4_

"They found the syringe," Ryan muttered, adding a picture of Beckett hugging Madison in front of her door, timestamped 4 am. The white shirt still untainted, unaware of the bloodshed it would soon witness. Castle didn't need to ask to know what Ryan's comment meant, but he asked anyway. As if he needed the confirmation before he could truly accept what the information meant.

"What did Lanie find?" Castle's voice sounding miles away.

"The remnants found in the syringe match the toxin found in Madison's bloodstream. According to Lanie, it's an anesthetic used in more advanced surgeries when the patient needs to be under for longer than six hours. Administered in too large a quantity, however, it stops the heart and kills the patient. The syringe itself was wiped clean, but unsuccessfully. Lanie was able to retract a partial print that matches Beckett."

"What did Beckett say?"

"She said she has no idea, that she doesn't remember a thing."

"Ok, maybe… Maybe someone tried to frame her, you know. If Beckett would want to erase her prints, she wouldn't do such a botched-up job that left a partial print."

"That's what Lanie and I thought too, but then the apartment's camera footage came in. Madison was home by 3 am, after which she called Beckett by 3:30. We see Beckett entering the apartment at 4. At 5:05…" Ryan swallowed, adding another picture to the board. It was bad quality, the hallway darkened. But it was enough for a jury to see a woman with long curly hair, dragging what seemed to be Madison down the hallway.

"At 5:05, Beckett left the building with Madison, only to return three hours later – which would be the amount of time needed for her to get to East-Harlem and back unseen," Ryan placed another picture. This time, the sun was beaming into the hallway, straight into the camera creating a blind spot. But even then, the blind spot wasn't big enough to hide the fact that it was clearly Beckett, her white shirt bloody.

"The next movement we see in the hallway is you and Espo entering the apartment around 10 when you find Beckett."

"The killer must have been inside the apartment before Beckett or Madison."

"And then what? Called Beckett to come over, murdered Madison, ordered Beckett to move the body and then come back so she could be found by us?" While Ryan's voice was in disbelief, his eyes pleaded for Castle to continue. For Castle to find a way to make the story make sense.

"The killer must have found a way to get Beckett to come back. A way of blackmail maybe? Maybe this has to do with Beckett's mother. They offered her answers if she'd come back?" Castle's voice sounded hesitant. He knew that that wouldn't make any sense. Beckett would never murder her friend in order to catch her mother's killer, nor would she come back to the crime scene in exchange for some killer's promise for information. She had learned the hard way, Castle thought with pain, thinking back to the time they'd struck a deal with the contract killer who murdered her mother.

"Even if that was the case, how did the killer get in? Madison left her apartment at 11 yesterday to go to work. No one enters the hallway until 3 am, when she returns home. And no one exits the apartment safe for Beckett and Madison, and later you guys."

"Maybe the killer stuck around until after we'd found her?"

"Stuck around till when? After you guys left, CSU was on the scene half an hour later. No one is seen exiting or entering the apartment apart from our guys. And they turned the whole apartment inside out. They would have found whoever was hiding there."

"Yo, more bad news," Esposito said, having just left the interrogation room where a blond woman was crying into the arms of her husband. They must be Madi's parents, Castle thought.

"Something the parents said?" Ryan asked, eying the couple.

"Nah, her parents knew nothing. They happened to be in town for a fundraiser, but hadn't seen Madison yet. They confirmed the head chef's story; the restaurant was Madison's life. If she was dating someone, they didn't know. Madison had a habit of only telling them about the serious ones. As far as they were concerned, Madison was a workaholic who made sure that her friends and family knew they meant a lot to her, even though she hadn't much time for them. She didn't have money problems either, or someone they knew of that would hold a grudge."

"Then what's the bad news?" Castle asked, not sure if he was ready for another blow.

"Lanie and I were thinking," at that, Castle raised his eyebrows. Esposito ignored him, though, and moved on.

"If we follow the evidence, the next step would be to trace the origins of the murder weapon. Beckett kille-"

"If Beckett killed," Castle interrupted.

"Fine, IF Beckett killed Madison, where did she get the anesthetic? Lanie said the morgue doesn't have any anesthetics since they work on dead people. And then we thought further. Who does Beckett know that has access to anesthetics, most commonly used in long surgical procedures?" Esposito glanced at them both.

"Oh come on, you guys. You can't be serious. Motorcycle boy? She broke up with that shmuck about a year ago."

Esposito and Ryan exchanged looks.

"I didn't think this was relevant but…" Ryan evaded Castle's eyes, as he headed back to his desk. Both Esposito and Castle followed, Castle keeping a little more distance, not sure if he would be able to take it. Ryan was looking through phone records.

"Here. About two months ago, Beckett started calling Josh again. They were infrequent at first but became almost daily for the last two weeks".

"Let me see that," Castle demanded, slowly losing his temper, forgetting his anger shouldn't be targeted at the boys. His eyes flicked over the pages, quickly finding the calls between Becket and that… Ryan was right. The interval between the first two calls was a week. After that, they became more frequent. He peered at the date of the first call. He remembered that day. A pang of guilt shot through his body. It was the day he first brought Jacinda to the crime scene. He had just learned that Beckett had lied to him for about a year, that she knew he loved her. He, thinking that she was embarrassed and didn't reciprocate his feelings, had decided to go back to his old ways. Any solution to protect himself from getting hurt even more. So he had picked up a flight attended to flaunt in front of Beckett. Because his ego had been hurt. And where had it lead him; Beckett straight into Josh's arms again.

"I'm sorry, Castle. It seems that-" Ryan tried.

"Where's Beckett?" Castle ignored Ryan.

"She's in holding, but bro. Do you really think it's wise to go see her right now? You're upset." Esposito stepped in front of Castle, trying to prevent him to leave hot-headed.

"Damn right I'm upset. Now move Espo." Castle tried to get past him. For a second it seemed that Esposito was going to stand his ground. Ryan prepared himself to jump between them if it came to it, but then Esposito decided otherwise and moved aside. With that, Castle stormed off to holding, leaving the two at Ryan's desk.

"Javi," Ryan stopped Esposito from returning to his.

"Do you really think Beckett could have killed Madison, and gone back to Josh for an anesthetic?"

"I don't know bro. All the evidence seems to point to her. And with Castle's behavior the last two months, can you blame her for going back to Josh?"

"But even if she went back to him, that doesn't explain why. Why would she want to murder her friend, and why would she go through all that effort to move Madison to then return to the crime scene where she could be caught red handed? Why did she trash the place? Was she looking for something? If there's one thing Castle has taught us, it's that the evidence isn't the whole story."

"Unless it is," Esposito retorted, but Ryan ignored him, "forget the why for a second; what I'm wondering is how Beckett was able to transport a body by herself all the way to Harlem without being seen by anyone?"

"You're right. She was bloody, and carrying a body. Someone in Manhattan must have seen her," Ryan said as he placed himself back behind his computer. He pulled up a map from Manhattan, and started looking at surveillance footage in the area to piece together the route Beckett must have taken.

"In the meantime, I'll swing by the morgue to see if Lanie's examination of Beckett has brought up any new information. After that, I'll go to the hospital, see what Motorcycle boy has to say."

* * *

If Castle had seemed angry in the bullpen, it had only gotten worse during the time it took for him to get to holding. His images of them together last night were now tainted by images he was all too familiar with; Beckett and motorcycle boy. How could she have gone back to him, while stringing him along like that. Talking about her walls, how they were slowly going down. How she wanted Castle to be there when they did, all the while she was talking to "him" again. Then what had last night meant? What was it? Some kind of "oh I almost died, I'm in crisis" kind of thing? The different accusations that had been spinning through his head on the way down, evaporated when he entered holding and he saw her. She looked hurt, afraid, as if she were Bambi and her mother had just been shot. She was wearing her sparring outfit, her hair now in a knot, probably to hide some of the blood that had undoubtedly colored it. She was staring at her own feet until she heard the steps of someone entering the space and she looked up. Her eyes looked haunted, but upon seeing Castle, she smiled weakly. Hope coloring her eyes. She stood up, walked up to the bars, closing the distance between them.

"Here to bust me out?" she asked shyly, seeking his eyes, seeking some kind of comfort he'd normally provide. He couldn't even; she was trying to make him laugh? After everything that had happened in these last 24 hours alone?

"I thought you were waiting for me," he finally managed to say. He didn't dare to look up, afraid that if he locked eyes with her, he wouldn't be able to continue his crusade of feelings, wouldn't be able to accuse her for not waiting for him like he thought they'd promised each other. Kate seemed to understand Castle's demeanor and allowed him his time to tell her whatever he had come to say.

"I thought we were waiting for each other, Kate. At the swings, you asked me to wait for your walls to come down, and I did, Kate. I waited. I admit I got sidetracked when I learned you knew. I was so mad then. How could I have been so foolish, I thought. So, yes, I side stepped. I only did what I thought you wanted me to do; move on. But then after the zombie case, you told me you were almost where you wanted to be. That you wanted me there, so I got over the pain. I got over it and I waited. So why him, Kate? What could I've possibly done to you to deserve this?"

After the initial words left his mouth, the gate had opened and the words kept flooding. It was as if Beckett behind prison bars was what he had needed all along for him to be candid for once, to not retreat to their comfortable, and well-practiced dance of subtlety and subtext.

"And what about last night?" his voice had risen, echoing back to him in the darkened room. "Was it all just a big joke to you? Just like I am a big joke to you?"

"You done?" she responded, her voice loud and clear. There was no hint of terror left in her voice. Blood was buzzing through his ears. His physicality reflecting the turmoil of his emotions. With much effort, he raised his eyes to meet hers. He had expected her to look uncomfortable maybe, busted or guilty, instead he noticed a flare of confusion and impatience.

"A big joke, really Castle? You betrayed me. You knew how important my mother's case is to me, and yet, you went behind my back and lied to me for over a year," she said calmly, rational even. It only fueled Castle's anger.

"We're back to this now? What about when you said you were sorry, that all you wanted was me. What was that, a twisted way to… I honestly don't even know what you're trying to do to me Beckett. You ask me to wait, and at the first sight of me wavering, you run back to him. And what, he didn't love you enough? Didn't profess his love enough to you, didn't bring you a coffee a day just to see a smile on your face? Is that why you came over to the loft yesterday? He wasn't fulfilling your every need?"

"What are you talking about?" Beckett retorted, her eyes aflame.

"What am I- you must be joking right?"

"I'm sorry to have given you the impression that I think of you as a joke, Castle, but no, I for one am not joking. Now, tell me what the hell you're talking about?" Kate's voice finally matching his. His heart, heavily beating in his chest. He was infuriated to say the least. She couldn't possibly not know what he was talking about, now, could she?

"You mean to say you don't know?" he tried, tempering his voice, allowing her to tell her story after the monologue he had just sprung on her.

"I really don't, Rick," using his first name had the desired effect. Castle's eyes looked up again, his heart rate started to slow done. Knowing that she had his attention now, she continued, never unlocking her eyes from his.

"I've been told that I was conscious when you guys found me at…," she swallowed, her eyes averted for a second, but returned when she spoke again.

"… her apartment. It was only on the way over to the precinct that I became aware of my surroundings. I discovered the blood on my shirt, and you both were so silent, I didn't know what was happening. I assumed something terrible must have happened, but it was only when Lanie examined me that I became aware consciously that she'd been murdered."

"Gates told you during the interrogation what had happened." Castle noted, trying to fill in the gaps of Beckett's story.

"I know she did. I heard everything they said and asked. I heard my dad get mad but it just… It didn't want to render, Castle. I don't know what happened, but they said I was standing in her apartment with the murder weapon, and my shirt was drenched."

"What about Josh?" He asked, barely audible, too afraid to have his heart ripped out again in such a short time span.

"What about him?" a crease appeared on her forehead.

"You called him, a few months ago. When I brought Jacinda to the crime scene," a flash of pain went through Beckett's eyes at the mention of Jacinda. How had he never noticed before?

"I-"

"Don't try to deny it, I saw your phone records. You called him every day last week," he said dejectedly.

"That makes no sense, Castle, I haven't contacted him in over a year. As far as I know he's still in Haiti with Doctors Without Borders. Why would he matter anyway?"

"Lanie and Esposito thought that that would be where you'd have gotten the toxin."

"Toxin? I thought she was murdered by a knife?"

"So you aren't back together with motorcycle boy?" he asked, hope filling his voice.

"No, I have my eyes set on someone else. I-" she hesitated.

"I thought you knew. I was going to tell you after the case, but then the whole thing with Maddox happened, and then we had that fight. I was out of line, Castle. I… I just get carried away whenever she's concerned; and then this all happened, god Castle. What's going on? Why would someone kill her? Did I…?" she whispered, tears filling her eyes. Castle was just about to respond, anything to keep the tears away when Ryan entered the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kate wiping away a tear, becoming Beckett once again.

"I'm sorry Castle, but we've got something," he said, deliberately avoiding Beckett's gaze.

"I'll be back, Kate. We'll get you out of this," Castle was about to turn around when her fingers reached for his through the bars.

"Rick," her hazel eyes locked with his piercing blue ones.

"Thank you," she whispered. And with that, he followed Ryan back to the bullpen. But by the look on Ryan's face, though, he wasn't sure there would be any reason for thanking him just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than usual, but I didn't want to leave you thinking she had gone back to Josh. The writers of Castle used Josh as a plot device to create some jealousy, so, so did I ;) Don't worry, this is a Caskett story. When it comes to toxins and anaesthetics, I don't know too much about it since I'm an English major. So, please just accept that that's how it is :) x


	5. Part I: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for your loving words and your interest in my story. As of yesterday, I entered this story in the Castle Winter Ficathon 2020, which I'm excited about. My chapters seem to get longer the more I write. I'm especially excited about this one, and I've been dying to share it. (A little exaggerated, but who cares :) )
> 
> Disclaimer: Now, as we've practiced class. Repeat after me: "These characters do not belong to ASmallGirlWithBigDreams but to the one and only Andrew Marlowe!"
> 
> There are some lines I used from the episode that partly inspired this story, though. All the other ideas and words, however, are mine :D

"So what'd you find? More evidence that points to Beckett?" Castle asked gloomily, entering the bullpen, his eyes moving directly to the murder board. He almost sighed in relief, noticing nothing had changed since the last time he'd been there.

"Lanie, he's here. You can talk now," Ryan said, while he pushed a button on the telephone.

"Hi, Lanie. What have you got?" Castle asked, pulling a seat next to Ryan's desk.

"As I was telling Ryan, something's off with Beckett's examination."

"How so?"

"As we suspected, the blood on her shirt all belonged to Madison. When I was examining Beckett, however, I noticed she wasn't completely present. I thought it might just be due to trauma, but then I thought about you two's track record to get yourselves killed-"

"Almost killed," Castle added, earning himself a disapproving glance from Ryan, "sorry, Lanie, continue."

"Anyway, remember when Royce was killed?" Castle didn't need reminding; it was the first time he had seen her so broken, apart from her mother's case. Only a month later, he would witness it again up close, in an airport hangar.

"I know Kate. While many freeze under trauma, she seems to excel under it. She becomes sharper, more determined. However, this version of Kate?"

"She was dazed," Castle agreed, "So what did you find?"

"She was drugged. And not the good kind. I compared our findings with Vice; they told me that Beckett was most likely drugged with a new street drug that has been popping up in East-Harlem and the Bronx. Not much is known about it; some reports say it gives you an adrenaline kick which makes you act upon your desires, while other reports say the drug lowers one's control, in essence making the brain more pliable for compliable behavior."

"Like the zombie drug?"

Lanie hesitated. "It could be like that… but Scopolamine, your zombie drug, has been researched plenty, and the common effects are known. This drug, however, seems unpredictable at best; its effects pure speculation. What worries me most is that the product is mostly advertised as a sedative for people who suffer from PSTD."

"What are you saying, Lanie? That Kate willingly took the drug?"

"What she's saying is that this evidence won't help Beckett's case. She's known to be a PTSD victim; as far as any jury is concerned, Beckett bought and used the drug herself," Ryan said, glancing over at Castle who had sunken in his seat.

"Thanks Lanie, I'll keep you up to date," Ryan said before ending the call. They remained in silence for a bit, Castle looking like a lost puppy.

"So how did your talk with Beckett go?" Ryan dared after a few minutes.

"I lashed out, couldn't help it. I was just so mad, I- I was unfair," he muttered.

"No one blames you Castle. We're all stressed out, trying to find a way to help her. I'm sure she understands. What'd she say?"

"She said she didn't know, that she'd only become conscious when Lanie was doing her examination."

"And Josh?" Ryan questioned carefully.

"She said they hadn't spoken in a year, that she was under the impression he's in Haiti doing God's work," he scoffed.

"Wait, so you're telling me that she didn't call him?"

"Our boy's right," Esposito entered the bullpen. "Went to the hospital to check up on our motorcycle schmuck," this earned him a weak smile from Castle, "they told me he's been in Haiti almost ever since Beckett dumped his ass. He discontinued his number before leaving. So, whoever Beckett's been calling, it isn't Josh. What about you, Ryan? Found out how she transported the body?"

Castle looked at them both quizzically, not having been part of the latest development, so Ryan filled him in.

"Apparently, the city surveillance department had a complication this morning at 2 am, and they lost the connection to most of lower Manhattan. They were only able to reboot at 5:45."

"That's our entire window of opportunity? In that time, she could have gone into the subway, taken a cab, a car, or god knows what," with every word, Castle's volume increased. At that same moment, Captain Gates entered the bullpen. Ignoring Castle's panic, she addressed Detectives Ryan and Esposito.

"Anything?"

They retold her the latest developments in the case.

"We are running out of time, people. The DA has given us till tomorrow morning, 9 am. If we haven't found another suspect or reason for delay, they will transfer Detective Beckett to central booking. Detective Ryan, do you think you could find Beckett on any street footage after 5:45?"

"I could try; I'll ask patrol officers if they saw anything. I'll ask Tori to help too, to better our chances."

"Perfect. Detective Esposito, have CSU swipe Beckett's place. Any evidence of foul play, let me know. The ex-boyfriend on the call list; interrogate Beckett again. If it wasn't him she was calling, figure out who she was. Work up the drug angle too. Someone in this city must have heard or seen something."

"Yes, Sir."

Without further glance, Gates returned to her office. Castle looked around the bullpen. The sun had set an hour ago, the yellow fluorescent light shone with a constant buzzing sound. His tummy made a noise, announcing it hadn't had any decent food since… God, he couldn't even remember when the last time was he had eaten.

"Go home Castle," Ryan muttered, not even looking up from the surveillance footage he was weeding through.

"You sure? Isn't there something I could do to help?"

"Listen to Ryan, bro. We've got this. This is just grunt work, and will probably take all night."

"But I could help?" he attempted.

"Go home, see your family. Have dinner with Alexis. We'll call you when we find something," Esposito placed a hand on his shoulder.

Castle looked at both helplessly. Eventually he lowered his shoulders and admitted defeat.

"I'll be back, first thing tomorrow morning."

"We're counting on it bro."

"Tell Alexis and Martha we said hi," with that, both boys went back to their tasks.

With an audible sigh, Castle left the precinct.

* * *

"Hey kiddo, you look like crap," was the first thing Castle heard when he returned home. "Wow, jee, mother. It almost feels like you care for me," he said while putting his jacket on a hanger.

"Where's Alexis? She feeling better?" his eyes searching for the other red head.

"Oh she's fine. After those two aspirins and a powernap, she woke up in panic, and has been sending emails to her future professors ever since. You know; what book to buy, what the course load will be like? The works." She said, raising her hands dramatically.

"Ah yes, of course," he made his way over to kitchen island, where he dropped take-out bags.

"I'm sure she'll come down soon. What's for dinner?" She peered into the bags.

"I bought some Remy's and Thai. You want some?"

"Is Neil Patrick Harries gay?" Martha quipped, accepting the plates and cutlery her son handed her.

* * *

Dinner had been relaxed, and entertaining. Alexis had come down and told her father and grandmother about the incredible professors she was going to have, how they had all responded and given her advice or sent her interesting works she could get herself acquainted with already. After some nagging on Castle's part, she told them about last night's festivities. Castle was sure she was withholding some key events; the way she had blushed when he had asked her whether there were any notable boys she'd met. Castle was glad for this short moment of normalcy. He decided not to mention Beckett's case to Alexis, not wanting her to worry and ruin her graduation glee. Besides, if he was being truthful to himself, he needed a break from the case too. While it had only been a day, the case and emotions had taken a great toll on him. Whenever they uncovered a new piece of evidence, the case against Beckett only seemed to grow taller.

Both Martha and Alexis had retreated to their rooms. Castle, having offered to clean up, was finishing up the last dirty glass of wine. The loft felt big and empty. His head, for once, was empty too. As if it had done all the possible thinking for one day. He dimmed the light and slummed back to his office. The old-school clock on his desk had just turned ten; while it was a perfect time to go to bed, he still felt wired. Instead he placed himself behind his computer and he opened an empty word file. The cursor blinked at him, expectantly. _Write, you fool_ , it dared him. He started to type mindlessly on his keyboard, breaking the force a blank page held over its writer. The letters screeched at him, and without a plan, the following words appeared. _What's the story? Every murder has a story_. Phuh, they're mocking me, he thought. But nothing else found its way to the page. As if this case had its own encounter with writer's block.

* * *

Beckett had no clue what time it was. But from the looks of it, it was well past midnight. She let out a breath, stretching to prevent any sourness in her muscles from sitting on a steel bench most of the day. Esposito had come by to ask her more questions about a supposed number she had been calling for the last couple of months. But as she had already told Castle, she had no clue what was going on, nor did she know to whom the phone number belonged if not for Josh – who she hadn't heard from – nor thought of, she added mindlessly – since that hot summery day she broke up with him almost a year ago. It bothered her, to be locked up. She wasn't used to sit on the sidelines, while her colleagues were working their way through what seemed like a most unusual case. If only she could help one way or another.

 _Remembering would be helpful_ , she snorted. Esposito told her they'd find traces of a drug in her system. That would explain why she'd only regained mental consciousness once she had been brought back to the precinct and had been looked after. She had felt attacked when Esposito suggested she might have taken the drug willingly, but after the look she had given him, he had fallen silent. If only she knew what had happened; if only she knew what they knew. Being a prime murder suspect didn't really help you gain information on the murder case you were being suspected of. All she knew was that she was found with the knife in her hand, that Madison was found somewhere else, and she herself had been drugged. But where was she before that, she wondered? Did it even matter? The whole evening was a blur. She vaguely remembered being on the swings at one point, she remembered being wet. A shiver went through her body. She had bruises on her body from when she had fought Maddox on the roof top, bruises from when her body had slammed against the wall when she was hanging of its side. But she also had a red mark in her neck of which the origins couldn't be identified by neither Beckett nor Lanie during the examination. She had a feeling Castle somehow had been part of her evening, but to what capacity, she wasn't sure.

"They say dogs can smell fear," a voice said suddenly. Beckett looked up, her mind on full-alert. By now most of the detectives had gone home, even the few desk-clerks that remained overnight wouldn't be able to hear her scream. Her best bet was for the cameras to pick up on this; she highly doubted it though, recognizing the voice immediately.

"Did you know some humans can as well? You reek of it," he stepped out of the shadows.

"You must have a bad nose then", she retorted.

He sniggered audibly.

"Tyson," she noted, more like a statement than anything else.

"I prefer 3xk," his voice revealing a hidden temper, "how long has it been since I left Castle and detective Ryan in that motel room?"

Beckett didn't have patience to play games; knowing fully well that psychopaths like Jerry Tyson thrived on recognition. To be audience to the big reveal of his masterplan wasn't part of Beckett's agenda.

"How'd you get in here?" she glanced around, trying to see whether the cameras were functioning. Then eying the police uniform he was wearing.

"I have my ways," the light hit his face. He looked older since she last saw him.

"You killed Madison," again simply a statement. No need to give him the satisfaction of the hurt he had caused her.

"She's not my type, you know that. I prefer blondes, remember? Here's a much more believable story: you killed Madison. Practically writes itself. Detective gets sniped down at captain's funeral. Detective is seen having a panic attack on scene during sniper case. You, as the good citizen you are, seek council; a therapist to get over your PTSD, but when it doesn't help, you resort to a new street drug. The street drug has some unknown side effects, though. And when Madison calls you for help, you end up doing the unimaginable. Did you like how I used your ex-boyfriend's number as your drug dealer? Don't worry, your friends will make the connection tomorrow. Made Castle sweat. Too bad he's out of the country, doing "god's work." God, I don't get what you see in Castle. He's a serious downgrade from a cardiothoracic surgeon."

"Why Madison?" Beckett tried to keep her voice unnerved, steady. _Don't let his words affect you._

"Oh, I liked her, sweet girl. Bumped into her one day, you know when she was blond. The stories she told me about you. She was jealous of you, of course. Dyed her hair brown just to be more like you. Sad, I prefer blondes."

"No one's going to believe your story, Tyson."

His eyes flickered madly at the mentioning of his name. His next words aggressive: "Who cares about the story, if the evidence says it all?"

"Castle cares about the story."

"Yeah but that won't save you now, will it? He's a writer, he is payed to make up lies; who's to say this won't be a lie to save his pretty little girlfriend's skin."

"I'm not his girlfriend."

He smirked at those words, looking pleased with himself.

"Oh, you don't remember, do you?" He paused, seeking for any hesitation in Kate's demeanor, but her face remained unchanged.

"How sad, really," he continued. "Can't predict the effects of the drug on your memory. It was quite the entertainment last night, though. You and Castle making love. The passion, the sparks. Dare I say beautiful. Who knew that these four years of agony would create such an interesting show. Sadly, all shows must come to an end one way or another. I'm choosing to end yours now."

"Why now?" her mouth said. Her thoughts, however, had taken a mind of its own, replaying his words over and over. _You and Castle making love. Me and Castle making… love?_

"Four years, Beckett. I gave up four years of my life planning the perfect vanishing act, so that the cops would stop looking for me, so that I could begin again, begin killing again, so I could taste that fear again. Four years, and your partner ruined it. I'm going to make him pay by taking away what he loves most in the world. People think it's killing that I like, but murder it's just an act. It's all about the anticipation, the p-"

"Are you done?" Becket was starting to lose her patience again.

"Castle does have good taste in woman. I'll give him that," he chuckled. "It's a shame really. That we've had so little time to get to know each other. Oh, well…"

"You won't get away with this. My team will find a way to get me out, and when they do, I will hunt you down. Trust me when I say I will make it my personal mission to see your body buried in the ground."

"Too bad I have trust issues. Even if your team finds a way, it will be too late. When the DA files charges tomorrow, they're going to send you to central bookings, the tombs. I have people waiting for you. You will not last the night. That will be his punishment. The guilt that he let me go last year will eat at him. Believing that you were innocent, but wasn't able to stop it, will haunt him for the rest of his life. Lucky for you… you'll be dead."

"Go to hell, Tyson."

"Not yet Beckett, but tell my friends I said hi."


	6. Part I: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If only they were mine, then season 8 would have been completely different, just saying.

He awoke with a start. His sight still blurry, his jaw aching, his right arm half asleep. He lifted his head up, went with his hand through his hair as his office started to take shape. He must have fallen asleep at his desk again; the words _What's the story? Every murder has a story_ still staring back at him on his way too bright laptop screen.

He closed it shut, and looked around the room. His clock read 4:30. Great, he would be regretting having fallen asleep at his desk tomorrow, he thought, already feeling the strain in his muscles. He got up, cautious to keep the quiet that loomed across the loft intact. Pouring himself a glass of water, he headed to his bedroom, ready to succumb to sleep once again. Deciding to clean himself up before bed, however, he walked towards the ensuite bathroom when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

It was black and lacey; Beckett's bra. Like Pavlov's dog, the images of last night blasted before him. Beckett's soft whispers against his mouth, her fingers reaching out, touching his lips. Them against the door, feverishly, frantically. Like teenagers in the midst of their sexual awakening. His fingers lowering, finding their way to her dark buttoned shirt.

He'd always loved that shirt. For one, he loved how its darkness brought out her lovely tanned complexion. But in all honesty, it was the extra button she left unbuttoned, which he imagined she did just for him. Suddenly, a thought came to him as quick and loud as the struck of thunder that had cemented their first night of passion. A dark shirt. She was wearing a dark shirt, while she was found wearing a white shirt at the crime scene.

He pulled out his phone, frantically, as he opened google maps. He typed in Beckett's address, followed by Madi's as the next stop. If Madi had supposedly called Beckett at 3:30 am, it would have what, taken her five minutes to get ready, before she left the loft? No, he thought. Whatever Madi had said on the phone at that time of night would have made Beckett leave in a hurry – which made her forget her bra, he noted.

Surveillance footage showed Beckett at Madi's door at 4 am. That meant Beckett had roughly 25 minutes to get from his place to hers. Both by foot and by subway, google maps proved it impossible for her to make it in under thirty left one possible way of transportation that could explain Beckett's outfit change; an Uber.

He had to know the answer; while it seemed like an almost unimportant detail, it was the first one apart from Beckett actually being the killer that didn't seem to make sense. Why, for one, would she go home to switch shirts before meeting up with a friend that had called her in the middle of the night. And how did she manage to do that in under thirty minutes? His heart was beating in his chest. This was it; cracks were finally starting to show in the rock-solid case. Without any further thought, he hurried back to precinct.

Although there was already some traffic on the road, he made it to the precinct in under 20 minutes. He was greeted by the nightshift's desk clerk, but apart from him, the precinct felt eerie and desolate at this hour. It was right around the time the night shift was finishing up, and the morning shift was taking over; in practice, it left the precinct unguarded for a little while.

His first stop was to the evidence room. "Hey Rickie," the officer on shift clapped him on the shoulder. "What's got you up at this early hour?" Reggie looked gleeful for the hour of the day. He was a sweet kid, still a rookie. Castle met him a few months back at the NYPD's three-legged race fundraiser, which he and Beckett won by the way, but who's bragging. Now, though, Castle wasn't in the mood for chitchat.

"I'm here for Detective Beckett's belonging," he said as short but still civil as possible, hoping Reggie would get the hint and leave him alone. He didn't.

"Oh, yes I've heard about that. How do you feel? Must be overwhelming when your partner turns out to be a murderer," he said almost mindlessly while walking down the long rows of meticulously stacked evidence boxes. Castle gritted his teeth, doing everything in his power not to respond. News did travel fast.

"Is it true she murdered her own friend? Who would have thought… I didn't. She seemed so nice. We heard about her all the way back at the academy; she was the example we all aspired to become. I guess with her mother's death and getting shot last year…" he said, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

Castle coughed, at which point Reggie looked up again. "Anyways, here you go, Castle."

"Thanks Detective Ramos," he said, at which point Reggie jokingly saluted him. Once in the elevator, Castle stopped for a second. The buttons flashed expectantly at him, waiting to be used. He wasn't sure whether Ryan and Esposito were still there, but it didn't seem smart to unnecessarily spring a theory on them that was solely based on the color of a shirt he had peeled off of Beckett the night before.

Instead of going to the homicide floor, he opted for one floor higher; robbery. When the doors opened, he held his breath for a second. There were a few people sitting at their desks but no one seemed to care about his presence. Given, even a circus clown on a pink elephant wouldn't have caught these guys' attention at this hour.

He found himself an empty breakroom, shrugged at the pathetic excuse for a coffee machine, and opened the box with Kate's belonging. The white bloody shirt must still be at the morgue, he thought, as he found a plastic evidence bag filled with nicely folded pants only. Removing the items from the box, he saw a smaller bag with Beckett's watch, her badge and gun, and her mother's engagement ring.

For a split second, he thought her phone wasn't there, but then the badge shifted under the movement and he saw the white iPhone spring to life. Taking it out of the bag, he stared at the phone for a while. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't go in her phone, unless he was given permission to play games. Beckett still had Flappy Bird, which he, regrettably had deleted out of pure frustration. He respected her privacy, although, _really Rick, do you_? His own voice questioned in judgement. No time for silliness, he thought, as he entered the date of her mother's passing.

The first app that drew his attention was her call list; how easy it would be to double check whether she hadn't in fact called Josh. _No, you're better than that. You trust Kate._ He scrolled to the next page, searching for where she had placed her Uber app. He found it in a little map called transportation; of course, always well-organized. In the app, he went to her latest rides. The last time she had used an Uber was last week. His heart started to beat faster.

A cab entered his mind as an alternative, but at that time of night in his neighborhood… it would be too unpredictable for her to wait for one to magically show up. This was it, he thought. A breakthrough. He placed everything back into the box, hurried back to Reggie's so he could go discuss his theory with the one person who would understand.

* * *

She had no clue what time it was. Ever since Tyson had visited her in her cell, she hadn't been able to close her eyes for longer than a minute. She felt wired, constantly on alert. Ready to pounce at the next sight of him. But the lack of sleep was starting to weigh down on her. If only she could just have some sleep, just for a little while. Even if she would find a way to relax, the light they had shining on her all night would hinder her from any real sleep. She was just about to shift to find a more comfortable position when she heard footsteps approaching. Would he come back?

"I thought I told you to go to hell," her voice sounded foreign, even to herself.

"Beckett?" a high-pitched sound said from the darkness.

"C- Castle?" she asked dumbfounded as the light hit his face. He looked tired.

"Wha- what are you doing here? What time is it?" her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. If Castle was here, that meant he must have found something to get her out.

"Umh," he pulled out his phone. "It's 5:23. Who did you think I was?"

Beckett told him about her nightly visit from 3XK. At the end of her story, Castle looked horrified.

"That son of a bitch. He won't get away with this," he said in anger. Castle wasn't one for profanity Beckett had come to learn over the years. She figured he'd only use such strong words when the people he cared about were under threat.

"That's what I said," she smiled weakly. "So if you're not 3xk, then why are you here?"

Castle hesitated for a second.

"What is it Castle?" her face in confusion.

"How much do you remember from the night before this all happened?" he asked shyly, and everything fell into place. She had been wrecking her brain for the past few hours trying to figure out whether Tyson had been lying, but apparently, he hadn't.

"I- I don't remember it, Castle. I'm sorry. Tyson told me but I didn't believe him until just now," she said apologetically, searching for his response in his eyes. His heart sunk into his stomach; she didn't remember.

"I'm really sorry, Rick. I wish I'd remember, truly," she took a step closer. "What I would give to be there now. If I would have known what would happen, I would have never picked up that phone call. And then, I'd have woken up next to you, and Madi… she wouldn't be dead," she said dejectedly, a lump in her throat.

"You would have picked up, Kate. You and I both know that. And Tyson did too. Your friend called you in need. No one blames you for that. Her death isn't your fault, Kate."

"Then why does it feel like it is?" she said, her voice broken. They stared at each other for a moment, allowing their eyes and their emotions to speak for themselves. Eventually Kate broke the silence.

"So what did you figure out? How did he do it? How are we going to convince Gates and the DA that it wasn't me?"

"Your bra." That wasn't at all the answer she was expecting.

"My bra?"

"I mean, your shirt really. You left your bra at my place when you left; I guess you were in a hurry. I only connected the dots earlier tonight when I saw your bra again. It-," he hesitated. Not sure what their status was, especially since he was the only party to even remember them sleeping together.

"It's okay, Castle. I completely understand," she smiled encouragingly, which was all he needed for him to continue.

"I remembered taking of your shirt," Beckett blushed at that, which pleased Castle, "and I was thinking how much I like that shirt in particular, how the dark tones are able to bring out that… extraordinary beautiful color of your complexion." He paused, eying Kate to see if she'd connect the dots for herself. He gave her a second, noticing how she was first processing the compliments he had sown into his revelatory story. And then she gasped.

"Castle, the shirt," detective Beckett was in charge again. "I was wearing a different shirt than the one you guys found me in. But I wouldn't have gone back to my place to change before heading to Madi's. That wouldn't make sense."

"That's what I thought too, but I wanted to make sure that we could prove that if we want to sway a jury."

"And did you?" Beckett's heart racing.

"I calculated the amount of time it would have taken you to pass by your apartment before Madi's. Both by foot and the subway can be ruled out, which leaves Uber. I figured you wouldn't wait for a cab. So, I checked your phone. The last ride you took was last week, which means that something happened to you during the time you left my place and the time you arrived at Madi's."

If it weren't for the bars and the security cameras she was sure were functional again, she would have kissed him right then and there. This, however, wasn't the time nor place for love declarations, she had to remind herself.

"That's good, Castle," he beamed at her like a little boy who'd just been told by his parents that he'd done a good job.

"So what now? Have you looked at surveillance footage?" she asked hopefully, glad to finally have a chance out of this mess. His face sunk, however.

"What's the matter?"

"There was a complication at the city surveillance department that night; they didn't have connection to lower Manhattan from 2 tot 5:45 am."

"Tyson," she gritted her teeth. "If he got in here unseen, he must have figured out a way to get into other surveillance systems."

"Wait, there might be a way. We did get surveillance footage of Madi's hallway-"

"Because they're privately owned," Beckett continued.

"So who's to say…"

"…that the footage in your apartment isn't there too," she concluded.

"I'll request them to send the footage over right away," he said while his fingers were already typing away on his keyboard.

"Wait, Castle."

"Hmm?" he looked up.

She hesitated. "On the footage… would they see anything?" She looked at him meaningfully. He hadn't thought of that.

"Uhm," he thought back to when she had knocked on his door. He had been mad, asked what she wanted from him. And then she had walked into his loft determined, and kissed him.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"I don't know the angle of the cameras, and I don't know exactly how many steps you took into the loft. Plus, when I pushed you against the door…" that last part he said more to himself. Beckett ignored the warm feeling that filled her lower stomach.

"So, you're saying there's a chance?"

"Uh, yeah I guess. But I mean, would that be so bad? If it could prove your innocence?"

"But it doesn't, Castle. The only thing it will proof is that I wore a different shirt when I left you than when I arrived at Madi's. I mean we could try, but I don't know if it will be enough."

"Well it will have to be enough, Kate. We've only got three hours left before they take you to central bookings, and I will spend every last minute of it finding a way to prove your innocence."

His voice was strong, and determined. While Castle's news had given her hope initially, she doubted it would be enough. She did trust him 100% when he said he would do everything within his power, and that… that would have to suffice.

"Then don't let me keep you from your work. Thanks, Castle. I don't know what I would have done without you," she admitted shyly. Castle didn't want to get into to what she would have done without him, since he was under the impression it was because of him that they were in this situation in the first place. Had it not been for him, 3xk would have gone free, and he wouldn't have had a personal vendetta against him or Kate. But now was not the time nor place to get into a who's more at fault contest with Beckett, so he smiled at her as he said: "Always," before he left holding.


	7. Part I: Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> "Hey Beckett, who's your father?
> 
> "Andrew Marlowe."
> 
> "How cool, he's mine too!"

"Yo Castle, what you doing here already? Did you come back?" Castle brutally awoke; his neck hurting, Beckett's keyboard stuck to his cheek. He looked up, his eyes still half shut, both Esposito and Ryan smirking at him.

"Here, we thought you might want this," Ryan placed a hot cup of coffee next to his head.

"Thanks, what time is it?" he grumbled while he let the dark taste of coffee awaken his senses.

"It is," Ryan checked his wrist, "7:02."

"So, two more hours," Castle said more to himself.

"Care to explain to us what you found?" Esposito asked as he moved the mouse to see what Castle had been working on. Beckett's monitor came to life. An image of her leaving Castle's apartment in a black shirt, timestamped 3:32 am, filled the screen.

"I will, but first there's something you need to know." Setting his sleep deprivation aside, Castle dove into Beckett's late night visitor, and his own epiphany concerning the shirt shift. Instead of Beckett's bra, however, it was a black shirt that had done the trick.

"So you're telling us that a black shirt made you remember that Beckett was wearing a black shirt when she came over for you guys' John Woo marathon, which by the way, you failed to invite us for?" Esposito's eyebrows raised in accusation.

"That's your big take away from everything I just said?" Castle asked disbelievingly.

Ryan ignoring their bickering, moved towards the murder board.

"That would explain a whole lot, Castle."

"How so? Did you guys find new evidence last night?" Castle looked up from his staring competition with Esposito.

"Yeah, the surveillance footage was a bust at first. But then a report from a patrol officer came in; he reported seeing a woman with brown curled hair, around 5'8" with a white bloody shirt headed into a subway station on 135th street at 7:32."

"135th street? What was she doing all the way over there?" Castle placed a pin on the map. With his finger, he traced back to where they had found Madison. "That's 19 blocks north from where the body was found?"

"Your guess is as good as ours. But, we were able to track her movements from there on out. We've got a cam spotting her come out of 14th street at 7:53, all the way back to Madison's apartment."

"That's it? How will this save Beckett if all we see is her going back to the apartment bloodied after supposedly having dumped the body up north?" Castle glancing between the two of them, hoping they would bring out a key piece of evidence that would change the game entirely.

"Well, not entirely. CSU's swipe of Beckett's place came up clean, which now knowing that Tyson was involved, could have been expected. I was, however, able to trace Josh's former number to a burner phone whose last activity was placed at a compound on West 139th street; Unis should almost be back now," Esposito concluded. Castle seemed unconvinced.

"It's a lead, bro. We'll get the son of a bitch."

"No, we won't. Not like this. Tyson knew we'd figure out to whom the number belonged. He was counting on us finding the person behind the calls, which means that whoever they'll find will only corroborate Tyson's story. He's been three steps ahead of us the entire time. He wants us to be looking that way. There's something we aren't seeing guys, something we're missing."

"Yeah, but what, bro? We have no idea how Madison's body got to 116th street unseen. We've got no footage between the time Beckett left your place, magically changed shirt colors and arrived at Madison's doorstep half an hour later."

"But, why don't we? Why don't we have footage of her going to Madison's place while we do have footage of her both leaving my loft, and entering Madi's hallway?"

"The surveillance system in apartment buildings is typically privately owned. Maybe Tyson forgot about those, when he disabled the street cams?" Ryan offered.

"But that would make no sense. Tyson doesn't forget things. If the cameras in my loft and Madi's hallway were working, that's because Tyson wanted us to see whatever was on the tape."

"Like what he did with Marcus. Remember how he was able to fake his own alibi by using a doppelganger?" Ryan continued.

"So who's to say he wouldn't rely on his old tricks again. Good thinking, Ryan. He must have found two women, actresses who fit the profile. All they had to do," he picked up the security footage of Beckett and Madison supposedly hugging, "was pretend they were Beckett and Madison for the cameras. When our fake Beckett leaves at 5:05," Ryan handed him the photo of the darkened hallway, "thanks Ryan; it doesn't matter what they truly look like. The hallway's dark, the one playing Madison only needs to pretend to be dead until the end of the hallway. After that, they can simply go home, since the security cams in the street are out. They have no clue they aided a serial killer get away with murder, to them it's just an odd job well-paid. In the meantime, Tyson must have swiped Beckett soon after she left my place. And he must have had Madison too at that point, seeing as Madison never actually made it home. Can we figure out who those two women are?"

"Already on it, bro," Esposito said, typing away behind his computer.

"Okay, so Tyson picked up Madison after work. You said they knew each other?" Ryan continued Castle's theory.

"Right, that would have made it easier for Tyson. He needed Madison to lure Beckett out. If Madison never made it home, did we trace where her phone call came from?

"There was no reason, because we thought she was home," Ryan replied, heading to his desk.

"Okay, so what happens next. Tyson has his little show in place, he has two women; one of which he's about to kill, the other one he's going to make the supposed killer. Maybe he has already killed Madison with the poison before he gets to Beckett. Madison was only necessary as bait, after that, she'd be dispensable. So, he needed to go somewhere. Somewhere where he could make Beckett complicit in a murder, and where he could drop the body undetected."

"Found it," Ryan interrupted. Castle looked up from building theories. "The call came from right in front of your building."

"The son of a bitch. Beckett never stood a chance. He would have waited at the corner for her, and then sedated her before she was even able to fight back."

At that moment, the elevator doors opened and two uniformed officers brought in a scruffy looking man, mid to late twenties.

"Detective Esposito, we found your guy. He was carrying an unregistered firearm; we've also got him on multiple possession charges. He also had the burner phone on him, which he tried to discard when he saw we were after him. Where do you want him?"

"Interrogation room four would do. Thanks, guys," Esposito got up, and followed them to interrogation.

"Detective Ryan, the DA will be here in 15 to go over the evidence. Please tell me we've got something," Captain Gates had entered the bullpen. They gave her the abbreviated version of the turn of events. Gates listened to them without comment. After Castle and Ryan had finished their stories she asked: "And do we have anything? Anything that could tie 3xk to this murder, anything that can prove Madison never made it to her apartment, and neither did Beckett?"

Castle was about to comment when Gates interjected: "Apart from the shirt, Mister Castle. I'm glad your eye for detail was able to cause a breakthrough, but as far as any jury is concerned, a change in shirt colors won't erase the insurmountable amount of evidence against her."

"Detective Esposito is in interrogation room four right now, with the dealer who supposedly sold Beckett the drug she was under the influence of," Ryan said.

"Let us hope he does not have any loyalty towards 3xk then," she said as she made her way to interrogation. Sadly enough, she was gravely mistaken. Whatever 3xk had on the guy, his testimony only dug a deeper grave for Beckett. He was able to describe her up to the tiny freckle under her left eye, explained how she was one of his regulars, that the drug was mainly used by people suffering from PTSD…

"We're wasting our time," he murmured to Ryan. They were in the observation room looking at how Gates and Esposito attempted but failed at making the perp give up Tyson. "He knew we'd find him. I'm telling you, if we want to save Beckett, we need to figure out where he took them, and how he was able to find the two lookalikes." They headed back to the murder board.

"The body was found at 116th, why there? He would have wanted to be close to where he'd dispose of the body," Castle was staring at the map.

"Beckett was seen heading into the subway at 135th street," Ryan added as his eyes glanced over the murder board.

"And the drug dealer was found on West 139th street. So somewhere in that radius, Tyson must have found a lair from where he could plan his actions," Castle grabbed a red marker and drew a circle in the general area. "That's an almost 20-block radius, there's got to be more to it."

"Tori can help us narrow down the search," Ryan suggested, already headed towards the tech room.

"Tori, we are looking for an abandoned building between 116th street, 135th station and West 139th street," Tori started right away, pulling up a more detailed map of Manhattan compared to the one they had on the murder board. She had marked the area, looking at Castle expectantly.

"He would have wanted it to be abandoned, but not marked by the NYPD as a possible crack house like the one where we found scruffy over there," he nodded to interrogation room four. "He wouldn't want his place to be under surveillance; he'd want to avoid the risk of an unexpected raid."

"Okay, that narrows are options down to… Forty-six."

"Forty-six, that's too many."

"Detective Ryan, Mister Castle, they're here," Gates peaked her head inside.

"But we need more time, sir," Castle begged.

"I'm afraid we've ran out of it, Mister Castle."

"Tori, keep looking. One of those places is where Tyson would be operating out of."

* * *

The meeting with the DA was short. They proposed their theory of 3xk, but without any evidence or concrete proof, the DA wouldn't delay the arrest for what at best seemed like a last-minute hunch.

"With all due respect, Mam, but if we don't delay, there won't be any Beckett left to save. Tyson will find a way to get to her, and he will kill her," Castle tried, begging the woman from the DA to give them another chance.

"If it's her safety you're concerned about, we're prepared to place her in protected custody," she replied.

"That won't matter to him. Don't you see, this is exactly what Tyson wanted. And now you are helping him get away with it," Castle had lost his temper.

"Captain Gates, I do not know what kind of house you're running, but in mine, we do not let civil consultants dictate the way of things," she said, ignoring Castle disgruntled attempts, instead speaking to Gates directly. "Now, Captain Gates, aside from the unsubstantiated claim from a murder suspect and her civilian partner, can you offer the DA's office one shred of evidence of 3xk's involvement?"

Gates's face was stern. The tension in the room elevated.

"Not at this time," she eventually admitted.

"Then we're done here."

* * *

"Mr. Castle?" Castle had stormed out, after the DA meeting. He couldn't take it any longer. He was going to lose Kate, just as Tyson had planned all along. He had to get out of there, somewhere, anywhere, away from their worried faces. The breakroom didn't seem far enough though, seeing as Gates was now standing in the door opening, giving him a look he had never experienced from Victoria Gates before: empathy.

"May I come in?" she asked, respecting his right to privacy.

"By all means. Would you like me to make a coffee for you?" He offered. This took her by surprise. "I insist," his smile not reaching his eyes.

"Um- if you insist. That would be very kind. Jus-"

"Just black. I know," he said as he started working the machine. They remained in silence for a bit. Castle, not sure what Gates had come to say; not accustomed to a version of Gates who showed empathy for him of all people. The quietness of the situation unnerved him, however, and soon he spoke.

"So, what happens next? Here you go," he handed her the fresh made cup of coffee.

"You don't want anything?" she thanked him with a nod as she accepted the cup.

"No, I'm too wired anyway," more silence.

"To answer your question bluntly, I do not know. I wasn't head of this precinct when 3xk was active last time, but his reputation precedes him. It wasn't until you came into the picture that anyone even knew who he was Castle. That is remarkable, and I now understand why Detective Beckett fought so hard to keep you here," not knowing how to react to this new side of Gates, Castle decided to simply listen. He felt touched; never having realized that the "Iron Gates," might simply be a big and well-performed act.

"If it had been up to me, I would have cut you to the curb months ago." Aha, _there she is_ , he chuckled.

"To answer your question as captain of this precinct, the DA has sent two armed officers who will transport Detective Beckett to Central Booking. They have agreed to place her in protective custody. After that…"

He didn't need to hear the rest to know what would happen next. He also knew that protective custody would be nothing against Tyson. That he'd have a way, he'd have people waiting for her, just as he had said. If only there was more time, if only he could find a way to help her.

"They will be here in 10 minutes; I suggest you go see her before they arrive. Thanks for the coffee, Castle," she said, as she left the breakroom. If ten minutes was all he had left, he would make them count. Exiting the breakroom, he felt Esposito and Ryan's eyes on him. He expected them to join him, expected them to want to say goodbye too, but they remained where they were. Heads down, leaning against their respective desks. He'd made his trajectory to holding three times in the last two days; the first time, he'd stormed his way over, on the verge of explosion, feeling betrayed by her. The second time, he had run with excitement, hopeful, convinced he had found a way to get her out. Now, he was empty. Robbed from all possible emotions except the big sign of failure hanging above his head. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of her. He was almost surprised to hear her, but enchanted as always by her honey-warm voice, he looked up at her.

"Hey Castle, here to bust me out?" they smiled at each other sheepishly, forgetting just for a moment… just for a moment everything and everyone around them. There was only him and her. Her hand reached out to his, pulling him closer; his head only inches away from the cold bar of their reality.

"Kate," he tried. A lump forming in his throat.

"It's ok, Castle," her voice not more than a breath. He tried again with his eyes, but here too, she shut him down. Instead, her thumb stroked tiny circles on the back of his hand. While he could stay forever in this position, just him and her, soothed by her soft hands, he needed to voice his feelings, his thoughts.

"I wish," he swallowed, entranced by her gaze, "so many things, Kate."

"Me too," she admitted, "me too, Rick."

"We're not through, Kate. We're only just at the beginning, I-"

"I know. But Castle, I don't regret a thing."

"But we've could have had those four years, Kate. If we hadn't just been so-"

"Stubborn?" she smiled, a tear appearing in her left eye.

"I don't think we would have survived, Castle. We weren't ready, I wasn't ready. We needed those four years, to get our bearings, to get to this feeling. Castle?" she was silent for a moment. "I'm not ready to say it yet," her voice small, her eyes lowered.

"Then don't. Tell me when you are," he lifted her chin with his hand, slowly caressing her cheek. "I promise you I will get you out of here, and we will do all the things we've always dreamt of doing. And when you're ready, you'll tell me."

His lips met hers softly, different from the few kisses he had had the opportunity of having with her. There was no need for heat, all they were looking for was each other. Eventually he ended the kiss, pushing his forehead against her. Ignoring the impracticality of the bars on either side of his ears. He heard a cough behind him, followed by "Castle, Beckett. They're here."

She reached for his lips once more, softly, not caring who could see, and as she released him, Kate vanished, for now Beckett stood before him. Castle didn't move as two armed officers walked up to the cell, opened the doors and placed Beckett in handcuffs. Beckett's eyes never wavering, keeping them focused on Castle's eyes only. They exited the cell, and they pushed her in the direction of the elevator. With a last smile, she was gone. Castle remained standing for a little while longer and eventually made his way back to the fourth floor. Walking towards the bullpen he saw two armed officers approaching Ryan and Esposito who were still in the same spot as Castle had left them.

"We're here to escort a Katherine Beckett?" Castle heard them say, immediately sensing something was horribly wrong. Sprinting towards the boys he interjected, grasping one of the officers by their collar.

"Wow, Castle, what's wrong," Esposito tried to intervene.

"What do you mean escort? Two officers already came and took her away," he yelled. Ryan and Esposito cried out in alarm. And then he understood; this had been Tyson's plan all along. He had just been too stupid to foresee it.

**To be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This is where part one of this story ends. I kind of envisioned my story as a double episode for a show I would write one day; but then I figured, what's the chance I'll be making that show anytime soon, so I translated it into the Castle universe. I have debated whether I should start a new story to tell the second part, but since I have entered this story in the Castle Winter Ficathon, I will have a bigger word count if I keep them together. In the end, you need part two to have closure for part one. Part two will be called Deep Cover, and will bring new themes. I suspect it will have a little more angst, and I will come up with a suitable warning when necessary. Thank you for sticking with this story until now. I hope you will enjoy part two as well.


	8. Part II: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Can't be creative every time, so yeah, you know the drill: These characters do not belong to me, only the words and ideas are mine.

It was like he was in a movie. He stood in the middle of the bullpen, everyone and everything around him moving in slow motion. He vaguely heard Ryan and Esposito question the uniformed officers, accusing them of misconduct. Gates had appeared, phones were being rung, papers were being turned. More phone calls, more yelling, more shuffling. And he was simply standing there, in the middle of it all.

He looked up at the board, the one thing in the room that didn't seem to be moving. His eyes trailed over the evidence, but without purpose. He had examined the board too many times in the last two days. He knew about all the evidence, knew how Tyson must have done it. If only there was a way he could prove any of it. If only he had a way to get to Tyson. And then he knew. As if on autopilot, he started walking towards interrogation room four.

He heard someone vaguely yelling after him; friend or foe, he didn't care. His ears were ringing with rage. The door of the interrogation room opened without effort, the scruffy bastard sitting there with his lawyer, discussing a plea deal. He could see the fear in his eyes, he knew what was coming for him. It seemed like he was pleading for help, pleading for him not to hurt him, but Castle didn't care. His body had a mind of its own; before he knew it, he was pushing the guy against the mirrored window.

"Where's Beckett," he yelled. "Where did he take her," he pushed him again, harder against the glass. He heard the mirror crack. Another push against it, the sound of the man's whimpering drowned out by the gushing of the blood in Castle's ears. His right arm was about to swing when he was grabbed, strongly from behind. He resisted, untangling his arms, elbowing whoever had tried to stop him. More arms grabbed him, pulling him backwards. Gates in the corner of his eye, apologizing to the lawyer and their client. He kept resisting, but the force left him, as he slowly came back to his senses. He could see clearer now. He saw how he had created a big imprint of the man in the window. He saw Esposito's nose was bleeding, and then he caught himself in the mirror. Broken, out of sorts; a wounded beast.

They'd put him in holding; it was the only way to appease the lawyer to not press charges. Not much later, Gates had come in furious, accusing him of losing them an invaluable suspect to the case. That he should be lucky she didn't throw him out immediately. After that they'd left him. Esposito, who had been standing behind Gates during his sanctioning, had ignored Castle entirely, his nose still bleeding. Ryan, on the other hand had shook his head in disappointment.

"You have some visitors," Reggie announced. Castle looked up as his mother and daughter walked in.

"Daddy, what happened?" "Oh, Richard," they said simultaneously.

"Hi pumpkin," he smiled, reaching for her hand through the bars.

"They told us he's got Beckett. 3xk? Is it true, daddy?" her eyes panicked, looking for reassurance. It was only a few years ago where he could have kissed away her fear, scared away the monsters. He couldn't do that anymore. Not with this monster. With heavy heart, he replied: "I'm afraid so, sweetie."

"Why would he go after Katherine?" Martha asked, reaching for his hand too.

"To get to me. He's angry because I stood in the way of his plan to disappear. So now he's punishing me." Martha sighed dramatically.

"Now, kiddo. What can we do to help? How do we get you out of here?"

"We brought money from your safe. We could bail you out?" Alexis sniffed, drying the tears that had appeared.

"No, it's- it's ok. I deserve to be in here. I lost my temper. There is a thing you can do though."

"Anything Richard."

"Go on your Europe trip," they both started to protest, "you said anything, mother."

"But we can't leave you now, you need us."

"What I need is to know that you both are safe, that he can't get to you too," he said looking at his mother. He knew she would understand.

"We love you, dad," Alexis whispered.

"I know you do. I love you too. Now go, if I'm not mistaken your flight leaves in three hours. Take pictures, I'll be expecting to see one every day, okay?"

"I promise," she squeezed his hand.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, mother," he saw his mother struggling to keep a brave face in front of Alexis. And then he saw it happen, the Martha magic. She threw her hands in the air, winked at her son one more time before she yelled: "Paris, here we come."

She grabbed Alexis by the shoulder and pulled her with her. Alexis glanced back one last time, and the red heads disappeared. He hoped he had made the right decision.

* * *

They released him half an hour later. Castle apologized profusely to both Ryan and Esposito, who both waved away his apologies saying they understood.

"Any word on the guys that took her? Any leads where she could be? Have they started a search party?" The boys glanced at each other uncomfortably.

"What's the matter?"

"They haven't."

"What? Why not? He could be anywhere by now? We need to find h-"

"Relax, we know," Esposito interrupted. "But according to the DA, it was Beckett who escaped; and they have now branded her a fugitive."

"But she di-"

"We know," this time Ryan interrupted. "Castle, we are on your side. So is Captain Gates. We just need to continue our investigation as if this were any other case."

"On the plus side, every cop in New York is looking for her. It's not exactly the search party we'd want, but Tyson won't get far," Esposito clapped him on the back. Castle wasn't too sure about that, but he remained quiet nonetheless. Grateful that they had his back.

"So, what have you come up with when I was in holding?" Not wanting to waste any more valuable time.

"So far, our investigation into the two fake officers is a total bust. Their badge ID numbers were fake. They simply walked out of the precinct, took one of the patrol cars and left. We were able to follow their movement up town, until we lost them in an unguarded neighborhood. Officers found and reported the stolen vehicle half an hour ago in an abandoned alleyway. They must have had another getaway car waiting. Whoever these guys are, they're professionals," Ryan explained.

"Did you look into old prison buddies of Tyson?" Castle asked.

"We didn't have to. Lanie checked the fingerprints they left on the paperwork, and found no matches in the system. Plus, we ran their faces too without result. If they were prison buddies, or ever in prison for that matter, we would have found them."

"We were, however, able to find out how Tyson got his two doppelgangers. A casting call from two weeks ago," Esposito held up an article clipping.

"Looking for two brunettes, approximately between 5"5' and 5"8' for a mystery party," Castle read out loud.

"We couldn't trace the request back to Tyson since they are completely anonymous, and it was paid in cash dropped off in the magazine's mail box."

"We did find who the company sent Tyson's way. And they are coming in right about", the elevator doors opened and two brunettes walked in, looking remarkably similar to Madison and Beckett from afar, "now," Ryan said.

The three boys went into an unoccupied room where they'd usually talk to family members who weren't suspects. Up close, the women looked nothing like Beckett or Madison. When they got seated, one of the two brunettes looked up in surprise by the sight of Castle.

"Omg, you're Richard Castle. See Stacy, I told you we were going to see him," Castle being used to fans smiled at her as he said, "how'd you know you would see me, if I may ask?"

"That guy who hired us said there might be a chance we'd get to meet you. He said he worked for the agency behind the Nikki Heat series" the other brunette, who Castle guessed went by Stacy, said, clearly not as impressed with Castle as her friend was. At that response, both Ryan and Esposito leaned forward.

"The guy who hired you, did you ever get to see him?" Esposito asked.

"No, he was a very weird fellow. We do these types of things more often, but this guy was very particular about the whole thing. When we got the job, we received a message from the company who hired us to pick up a package in the park. It's in there that we found the money and the job explained in the finest detail. It's funny really, that he trusted to pay us before we had even done the job," Castle's fan said, glancing at Castle the entire time she was speaking.

"Do you still have the package?" Ryan asked hopefully.

"Uhm, normally we would. It's good business to keep evidence of previous jobs, for future clients. To show them what you are capable of, you know. But this one mentioned specifically that the package must be burned after having completed the task. So, we did. Why? Is something off with the guy?" Stacy asked, switching between Ryan and Esposito, completely ignoring Castle's presence.

"Actually…" the other one said.

"No, Nancy, tell me you didn't?"

"I did!"

"You did what?" Esposito asked, clearly losing his nerves by the minute.

"I took a picture of it. It had Castle's autograph on it. I couldn't just simply burn it," Nancy tried to justify.

"Could we see the picture?" Castle asked politely adding: "If you want, I can do you one better and write you a little dedication in person?"

Nancy screamed at that, pulling out Castle's latest Nikki Heat from her purse.

"This is the best day ever," she sighed as she passed her book to Castle, and her phone to Esposito.

"This is only a picture of the autograph," he grumbled, annoyed now.

"Oh yeah, I didn't really care for the rest of it," Nancy eyed Castle gleefully as he signed her copy.

"So this assignment, could you tell us what it was exactly?" Ryan interjected, trying to keep the peace next to Esposito who was starting to fume.

* * *

"Well that could have gone better." Ryan concluded as they walked back to the murder board after having said goodbye to both Nancy and Stacy.

"What a big waste of time; all they did was confirm what we already figured, without any physical proof…" Esposito grumbled behind them having brought in some fresh coffee.

"At least we now know we can pay people to create murder scenes for us, is we ever find ourselves without," Castle said ironically.

"Wait a second, the uniforms. Ryan, do you have a screenshot of Beckett's kidnappers on our security footage?"

"Um yeah, let me just load it up," Ryan started typing, after which an image of the two guys appeared.

"What are we looking for, Castle? Do you recognize them from somewhere?"

"No I don't, but look at the badges; the rims are bronze, not gold. They're fake. And as a matter of fact, I know where they got them."

"You've got your own pair, don't you?" Esposito said disapprovingly.

"Let's just say, the ladies dig it."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were in a small costume store downtown. Castle being a regular, the owner saw no problem in providing them with the two fake cops' credit card information. One call to the precinct later, and they got the address of where one of them currently resided. They lived in New Jersey. With every mile they drove farther out of Manhattan, another minute ticked away, and Castle got more and more worried. Something just didn't sit right. Even if these guys had helped Tyson to kidnap Beckett, who was to say they'd one; be home, and two; open their mouths and spill on Tyson's current location. But seeing as Tori still hadn't gotten back to them on a possible location for his operating house, this was their only option.

Forty minutes later, they finally arrived in the neighborhood of one of the kidnappers. Not wanting to alert them, they stopped one block earlier.

"Castle, you stay in th-" Esposito tried to say.

"The hell I am. They might have Beckett in there, Espo. I'm not going anywhere but in that house." Having seen Castle lash out earlier today, Esposito didn't attempt to fight back.

"Alright, but we're doing it my way. If these guys are home, they're going to run first moment they see us. It would be practical if we could get an advantage point, see if they're home."

"How about we ask the lady that's been eying us from her window for the last few minutes?" Castle offered, waving to the old lady.

"Sure, Ryan?" Ryan grumbled as he got out of the car and headed over with a little sprint. The woman came to the door and started talking animatedly, pointing at the house where the kidnapper lived. A minute later, Ryan sprinted back. Esposito lowered the car window.

"So, what she tell you?"

"Nice lady. She said she's been calling the cops for years, saying that something's off with her backdoor neighbors. She never had any proof though, so cops never bothered. She has a good view from her bedroom window, where she likes to spy on them. She said they got back about three hours ago, and haven't left since."

"Did she say anything about Beckett, was she with them?" Castle asked hopefully.

"No, she did see an older man lurking about who didn't seem familiar though. Said he went into the house, and only left an hour ago. She thought that was strange, since they never have company. She even called the cops, but again, they saw no reason in coming over for an unusual visit."

"Alright, so what's the best way of entry?" Esposito asked.

"She's been so kind to let us in via the backyard. They've got a connecting door, from the previous owners."

"Perfect. I'll take the front. Castle, you and Ryan go through the garden."

* * *

Three minutes and a house full of creepy little dolls later, Castle and Ryan were at the connecting door in the old woman's garden.

"Javi, we're in position."

"Ok, me too. I have my eyes on the house. So far no movement, so you can go."

On go, Ryan opened the door, after which Castle followed. The first thing Castle noticed was the absolute disgrace of a backyard, if even you could call it one. The second thing was the sound of a television, exiting from the open door of the house. Since Castle didn't have his vest with him, he decided to stay back a little, allowing Ryan to go first. Ryan walked up the side of the door, glanced back at Castle, nodded before he went in, right at the same time as Esposito did from the front.

"NYPD, raise your hands where I can see them," Castle heard their screams in unison.

"Hands in the- shit," Esposito said. Without any further thinking, Castle ran into the house, disgusted by the scene. The TV on the right-hand side was playing a boring sports match, the two Barcaloungers on the left, which Esposito had turned around had the two fake police officers sitting in them. Only, not much was left of them. Their faces had been severely beaten, their fingers missed all their fingernails. Castle quickly diverted his eyes.

"How long do you think they've been dead?" Castle pinched his nose, the smell getting the better of him.

"Their body temp's still warm, must have been rather recent," Esposito said, while Ryan was calling in the double homicide.

"Do you think Tyson had anything to do with this?" Ryan asked, being on hold for a second.

"I could see him killing them as dispensable pieces in his grand scheme; torturing them, however... Doesn't make much sense."

"Whoever did this, I bet that older guy their neighbor saw must have either seen something or been involved himself. Ryan, tell them to bring in a sketch artist as well."

Castle started walking away from the crime scene, into the hallway, still hoping for a sign of Beckett. He heard Esposito's phone ring in the other room.

"Tori, any news?"

Castle sharpened his ears and turned back towards the living room as he saw Esposito's face harden.

"Alright, thanks Tori."

"What happened?" Castle asked, his heart beating faster in his chest.

"They've found the place."

* * *

In his time with the NYPD, Castle had been on about a dozen house raids. He'd usually sit in the back; with his writer's vest on which he'd initially bought just to tease – or better yet annoy – Beckett. He liked the thrill of it, saw it as great material for his writing. If he wanted to describe how Nikki and Rook felt in a similar situation, he had to know firsthand what it felt like to be in the middle of the action.

While the cases were different, the raids were always the same. They would drive up to the scene, everyone would be briefed the tactical strategy and the architecture of the building with the possible location of their suspect, they would leave the vehicle, Beckett would place her hand on Castle's chest and order him to stay behind. In many of those cases, Castle would fail to abide her order and get out anyway. And in most of those cases, he would end up bumping into the criminal as they were successfully escaping. Truly, what would they have done if it weren't for Castle who just magically happened to be the obstacle in the middle of their criminal's escape route?

This time, however, there was no Beckett to order him to stay behind. Esposito had even handed Castle his spare gun. Even though Castle had done this a dozen times prior, never had he felt so unsure and quite frankly afraid before. While he was sure that this would be the place 3XK would work out of, something was telling him he wouldn't be there anymore.

Tyson was smart; he'd proven them time and time again. If he was able to correctly guess what evidence they were going to find, which suspects they were going to interrogate, he would also know they would eventually discover his lair. Nonetheless, Castle kept his mouth shut. He hoped for once that his gut feeling was wrong, that they'd find Beckett alive, and they would finally put an end to Tyson, once and for all.

"1 minute," the radio in front buzzed. The evening had fallen an hour ago. Esposito took point, repeated the strategy and the specific build of the building. The premise, an abandoned electrical company, stood on its own, which meant that once the SUVs would drive up the road, 3XK would be alerted immediately. That's why it was so important to surround the building from all sides as soon as possible, to prevent any possible escape. The A-team would enter from the front, while the B-team would secure the back. They'd agreed that Castle would go in the back, where they'd hope it would be slightly safer.

"Doors open in 3, 2, 1," in unison both teams left the SUVs surrounding the premise as Esposito's team entered by the front, while Castle, led by Ryan burst into the back. Castle's heart was pumping rapidly in his chest, his hands sweaty as he clamped the gun and a flashlight. The building used to be a combination of a warehouse with some office space. They walked through a long, darkened corridor. Boxes and papers were scattered across the floor.

Castle was expected to stay behind Ryan, let the others clear the rooms. So far everything remained quiet; the only sounds were the multiple "clear" from the various rooms. At the end of the hall, there was a staircase and a door that led to the warehouse. Ryan signaled for half of the team to head towards the warehouse, Castle and Ryan's part went up the stairs.

It was on the next floor that things started to go wrong. An explosion went off somewhere to the left of them. Ryan tackled Castle to the ground in order to protect him from the blast and the possible shards. Castle bumped his head against the wall, his shoulder crunched. With great effort, he was able to open his eyes. He saw legs passing him, screams were all around. He heard shots being fired, but if they were friendly or foe, he couldn't tell. He slowly got up, the room spinning, his shoulder slumping, his hands still clasped around Esposito's spare gun, his flashlight lost during touchdown.

He walked towards the first door on his left, and as he entered the room, all sound disappeared. Two spots in the corners of the room brightened the space. The wall in front of him was filled with newspaper clippings, pictures of him and Beckett at crime scenes, floorplans of his loft, Beckett and Madison's apartments, the precinct. Surveillance systems. In the left corner, on the table, lay scattered empty vials, an NYPD uniform, cables and wires, something that strongly resembled explosives… but the thing that caught Castle's eye straight away, was the body of Jerry Tyson, 3XK, with a shot to the head, against the wall of evidence.


	9. Part II: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains some details on kidnapping and possible torture, so if you're not into that or it is a trigger for you, do not read the last part of this chapter. For those who are in doubt, it is only a very small portion and does not go into much depth of actual torture practices. I rather include a warning so not to take anyone by surprise :)
> 
> Disclaimer: These wonderful, oh so wonderful characters do not belong to me.

There he lay before him, Jerry Tyson, a monster no more. The shots and shouts around him had stopped. Without noticing, Castle had yelled: "He's here," after which five armed SWAT members and Ryan entered the room with their weapons raised. Seeing Tyson on the ground, they lowered their weapons.

Ryan walked over to the body, placed his finger to his pulse to make sure he was dead. "Nice shot, Castle," he said, looking around the room taking in all the evidence with horror and disgust.

"It wasn't me," Castle replied, still staring at the lifeless body. The body that had caused so much harm, and so much pain. And now all that was left of him, was a bag of rotten meat.

"What do you mean, you didn't shoot him?"

The other officers retreated, signaling that it was over.

"He was dead when I got her-"

"Gates, Lanie and the rest are on their way," Esposito's voice sounded through Ryan's radio.

"Did they find Beckett?" Castle asked, having more and more trouble to see clearly. He checked the back of his head, to locate the pulsating feeling. He let out a painful gasp when his fingers touched something warm and sticky. He was bleeding. He heard Ryan say something, but everything got darker.

"Ryan, did they find Beckett?" he pleaded again. The last thing he heard was, "get an ambulance too, Espo."

* * *

He awoke with a start, his head still throbbing. His eyes fighting against the sharp light of what seemed to be an ambulance.

"Relax, honey. Everything's going to be just fine. You bumped your head pretty hard, but nothing a bit of sleep won't fix," Lanie came into vision. He was laying on a gurney; when he wanted to raise his right arm, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder as he gasped in agony.

"That will take longer to heal, I'm afraid. You dislocated your shoulder during your fall," Lanie said as she readjusted the sling.

"Beckett?" he asked, he seemed to have trouble with his voice. If only the world could stop spinning. Lanie didn't reply, but her look said it all. No sign of Beckett. Not wanting to waste any more time, he got up. If the world had been spinning beforehand, this was on a whole other level. He wanted to push through it but Lanie pushed him back down.

"Not so fast Castle, you might have a mild concussion so it's best you lay still for a bit longer." At that same moment, Esposito entered the ambulance. Finally, someone who'd be able to provide him with some answers.

"Hola chica, how's our sleeping beauty over there," he teased, passing Lanie who was needed elsewhere. Probably Tyson, he guessed.

"Javi, I trust you keep superhero in bed. He better be there when I get back," she gave him one last glare before she left the ambulance. Once she had left, Esposito's demeanor did a 180; none of his teasing, flirting self remained.

"Superhero?" Castle asked, the world around him finally calming down. Esposito scoffed.

"Once Gates and the rest arrived, some of the press got wind of what had happened; they pressured her into a statement, so she named you as the shooter."

"But I didn't do it. As I told Ryan, he was dead when I entered the room."

"We know man, it wasn't Gates choice. Believe me, she's just as upset as you are. But the commissioner threatened her with her job if she'd report otherwise. The NYPD has been badmouthed for months; he believes that a story like this is what he needs to win favor with the public again."

"And what's a better story than the author hunting down the serial killer who framed his muse for murder," Castle concluded.

"Exactly."

"So any clue who did shoot him? Any sign of Beckett?"

"CSU's still going through all the evidence, but so far no sign of Beckett. They did find bloo- It's Madison's, relax," Esposito quickly said, pushing Castle back on the bed who'd cried out in panic.

"They also found the drug he used on Beckett. So, this is definitely the place where he planned and executed everything from."

"And the explosion? What was that all about?"

"Tyson must have expected we would find his place; we walked into a trap from the minute we entered the building. It set of an entire set of explosives and teargas. You guys had it slightly better. The trap made us think Tyson must have known we were coming. So, we looked in the surrounding buildings, and found binoculars and a whole lot of blood on the third floor. It was the perfect spot for Tyson to keep eyes on the premise, until someone got to him first."

"Any idea on who did?"

"Perlmutter and Lanie are examining him now, before they bring him over to the morgue. But so far, we've got zilch. What I can't figure out is why they would have moved his body to the evidence room, and how they evaded the traps. Anyway," he said, as Lanie had returned.

"Gotta head back to the precinct. I'll see you tomorrow, Castle. Lanie," he nodded, as he left the ambulance.

"Alright Castle, ready to get moving?"

"If you'll let me go, I can drive back with Espo. Then you can go to the morgue directly," Castle tried.

"Oh no, honey. I'm not letting you go back to the precinct in your condition."

"But Lanie, they need me. Beckett needs me, you don't understand. She-"

"Trust me Castle, I do. We all love her, and I want her back just as much as you do. But there's nothing for you to do right now but rest. Tell me, when's the last time you've had a full night's rest?" To be honest, he couldn't remember. It seemed like this horror had been going on forever, a bad dream he kept failing to wake up from.

"Uhu," she gave him a judging look, "thought so." She tapped on the partition to let the driver know they were ready to go. The rest of the drive, they spent in silence. Castle having accepted his fate by now, was feeling the effects of his earlier collision. He kept drifting in and out of sleep. Lanie nudging him every once in a while, to make sure he'd have no lasting brain damage.

Sometimes, he awoke by himself, and then he'd observe Lanie; the way she held herself together whenever she thought he was watching her. But in those small moments, when she thought he was asleep, he could see the worry trickle in. Saw her checking and rechecking her phone, hoping for an update, any sign of life, a lead.

Castle had been so enveloped in his own misery, that he hadn't stop to think how others were taking it. Somehow, he'd expected the others would be less affected, being paid to find killers for a living and all. But then again, they never had had to conduct a murder investigation with their own colleague as prime suspect before, or a kidnapping of their closest friend.

* * *

"Castle," a female voice said.

"Kate?" he awoke, the ambulance's harsh light bringing him back to reality.

"Sorry honey, but we're here," Lanie said. "Do you want me to walk you up?" she asked, glancing at her phone that had just buzzed.

"No I'm fine, thanks," he said, but Lanie wasn't paying attention anymore.

"Okay, great. Sleep tight, Castle," she said as Castle left the vehicle.

"Night, Lanie," he was almost at the door when he heard Lanie call after him.

"Castle, could you put an alarm every two hours. Just to be sure?"

"I will," he waved his phone in the air. He smiled at her weakly as the ambulance sped off. He sighed, his head still throbbing, his arm not accustomed to the sling. He remained in front of his door for a while. Just two nights earlier, a storm had taken Manhattan by force. Beckett had stood right in this exact same spot, rain pouring down her face. He couldn't imagine the thoughts and emotions running through her head. The nerves holding her back from going up the elevator, to finally give in to her feelings for him. For only hours later, to be taken by force on this exact same street corner by Tyson.

He swallowed, got over himself and headed for the elevator. While the precinct had been the only place he wanted to be after the raid, sleep was now the only thing he craved. Arriving on his floor, however, he saw that sleep would have to wait for he had a visitor.

* * *

"Rick," Jim Beckett got to his feet. He looked frail, older than he'd ever seen him.

"Mister Beckett?" trying to lift his arm to shake his hand, only then remembering the situation of his shoulder. He grimaced, Mr. Beckett's eyes noticing the sling.

"Are you alright?" he asked Castle, always polite.

"I've been better, but I'll live," regretting his word choice instantly.

"Wait lemme just open the door for you," Castle attempted to get to his keys, struggling to reach his right back pocket with his left arm. After some more grunts, he was able to reach them and opened the door; Mr. Beckett's eyes on him the whole time.

"Please, after you," Castle said, at least giving the man the curtesy of entering first; he had no idea how long Mr. Beckett had been standing in front of his door, but from the looks of it, a while.

Once inside, he saw Mr. Beckett was a little uncomfortable; not knowing where to sit or stand.

"Please, make yourself at home. Can I bring you anything to drink?"

"Just tea would be fine," still glancing around. It was only the second time he was there. The first time, it had been right before Montgomery was killed and Kate got shot at his funeral. They'd been pursuing Hal Lockwood, and Beckett's dad had come over to ask Castle to protect her. Make her see her mother's death wasn't worth her life.

After some initial struggle, he was able to operate the kettle with his left hand, and the water was almost boiling by now. Mr. Beckett had decided to sit at the kitchen island, his eyes following Castle's every movement. Castle was taking out some mugs when Mr. Beckett finally spoke.

"They never tell you how horrible it is to be a parent," Castle looked up from under the cupboard, as Mr. Beckett stared ahead and continued to speak his thoughts out loud.

"At least, they didn't tell me. They only told me about the joy, and the love you would feel; this indescribable love that only other parents would understand. I thought it would get easier with age. After she was done rebelling, got her act together and went to Stanford. I mean, I did have the occasional scares. Whenever she'd bring a new boy around, for instance."

Castle chuckled at that. Envisioning a nineteen-year-old Beckett, fresh out of high school. If he would have met her back then, he would have been in for. At any age really, he thought, given how much in love he was with her now.

"The worrying never truly went away, and that's a burden you learn to live with as a parent. But then Johanna died, and we were both so devastated. I- … I lost track of life, of her. But then Katie, she brought me back and she took over all the worrying. Not only did she take mine, but she made it her responsibility to carry the worries of the world."

The water had boiled. Castle filled Mr. Beckett's cup, while he listened to the most detailed and correct version of Kate he had ever heard, except maybe for the one he had drawn up himself.

"The day she graduated from the academy is the day I stopped drinking. I had come to peace with the fact that my Katie would be saving the world from crooks and criminals. My one and only job would be to take care of Katie, while she took care of others."

Mr. Beckett took a sip from his tea, giving Castle a little nod of appreciation.

"How do you do it, Rick? I know you care about her, and I'm sure by now you know she cares about you too. So how do you do it? Stand by her side, as she faces society's underbelly day in day out. How are you able to follow her wherever she goes, enemies forming left and right?"

"Same as you. Before I met your daughter, I had my mother and Alexis to worry about. It was only when I met Beckett that I realized that they'd been taking care of me all along. Them worrying over me allows me to worry over her."

"Beckett," he repeated with a weak smile, his fingers moving over the rim of his mug; much like his daughter liked to do. He sipped the last drops of his tea, after which he got up. Castle followed his example, unsure what would come next. He didn't know what Jim had come over to find, so he could only hope his answers had provided some solace.

"Thank you for the tea, Rick."

"It's my pleasure, Sir."

Mr. Beckett started walking towards the door. Once there, he was about to reach for the door knob, when he turned around one last time.

"Rick, I'm sure I only know a tenth of what you and Katie have been through in the last four years, and even so, I know you've made a lot of enemies. With that 3XK guy gone, it means someone else is after her. Please bring her back to me. I've already failed to take care of her twice, but like she never gave up on me, I'm not done giving up on her now. I will spend the rest of my days trying to take care of her, like she once took care of me. I owe her my life, Rick." Castle was about to open his mouth, when he spoke again.

"Don't make promises you won't be able to keep. Please, just, try to get her back. Bring my Katie home." With that, he opened the door and left Castle standing there, in the doorframe of his empty loft.

* * *

When he awoke the next day, his phone was overrun by messages and missed phone calls. He quickly sifted through them, but none were from the precinct. His mother and Alexis must have heard the news, as they both had tried to call him and had left worried voice messages.

Then there were some numbers he didn't recognize, which after hearing his publicist Paula, were probably some of the journalists she was talking about. Paula going straight to business as usual had exclaimed that they were sitting on a PR goldmine. The muse of Richard Castle's Nikki Heat series first suspected of murder, and then kidnapped was the best kind of publicity a murder novelist could hope for, except for maybe being kidnapped himself. Now Castle simply had to claim the narrative by going on national TV, and he'd be golden for life, Paula had said.

Castle threw his phone to the side, uninterested to say the least. In the bathroom, he came face to face with himself. He looked like crap. While he had gone home to gain up on sleep, the constant worrying over who'd taken Kate, his kind-of promise to her dad, and the very real concussion that was still looming in the shadows, had made him even more sleep deprived if possible.

No time to waste, he took only a quick shower, biting through the pain of hot water on his head wound. After that, he took his phone on his way out; he had three new messages, all from various news outlets. One day not too far from now, he was going to murder his publicist.

When he arrived at the precinct, Castle didn't have so much as the time to walk into the bullpen when a familiar face made their way over.

* * *

Beckett had no idea where she was. She knew it had been longer than a day based on the emptiness of her stomach; at least that she knew. She was in some kind of basement area, no windows to keep her company. There was a light bulb above her head, that made it impossible to know how much time had elapsed, and prevented her from any sleep. Both her arms and legs were in chains, keeping her elevated from the ground. In the corner of the room, there was a basinet, slowly overflowing, a drop hitting the water precisely every three seconds. She was sure she would get annoyed by it eventually. She screamed, again. Rattling her chains, anything to gain attention from whoever was behind all of this.

She'd been taken by two fake police officers from the precinct. That she knew. She had known something was off from the minute they started driving north instead of south. But since she sat in the back of a police car handcuffed, there wasn't much she could do. They had dropped her off at an abandoned electrical company, where Tyson had tied her up and explained his plan to her; how they would be watching from another building as Castle and her team would enter the warehouse, how there would be explosives, teargas.

He was about to explain what would come next, when all of the sudden, he lay dead on the ground. Before Beckett had time to locate where the shot had come from, a bag had been pushed over her head forcefully, and a syringe had been placed in her shoulder, after which she dozed off.

And now she was here. Without a clue where here was, or who it was that held her. She could already feel the strain from her arms being stretched, carrying her bodyweight. She yelled again, her voice echoing of the rust-plated walls. And then she finally heard a sound, footsteps heading her way. The door opened, a baldheaded woman entering with a chair under her arm. She placed it in front of her, ignoring Beckett's questions: "Who are you? Where am I?"

Once seated, she pulled out a picture and held it in front of her face.

"Who is he? Where is he?" the woman retorted with a heavy Russian accent.

The man in the picture was older, maybe in his early sixties. He had white hair, a square shaped face she knew Castle would compare to that guy from _Up_ , and a little goatee. She had never seen the guy in her life. When she responded as such, the Russian woman didn't seem convinced. Instead, she simply asked the same question again.

"Who is he? Where is he?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, the torture/kidnapping part isn't too elaborated so far. If it gets more detailed, I will place a warning at the beginning of the chapter. Other than that, I will attempt to publish a chapter every other day, so I have time to combine my writing for this fanfic, with writing for my thesis. For now, I give you some time to come up with who's holding Beckett, and who it is Castle sees headed for him in the bullpen...


	10. Part II: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: These characters belong to Andrew Marlowe, lucky him!

"Sorenson?" Castle asked, not sure whether it was his concussion that made Special Agent Will Sorenson stand in the middle of the homicide floor, or whether he was in fact very much in front of him. Last time he had seen Beckett's ex was about three years ago, around the time Castle first talked to Beckett about possible inaccuracies in her mother's case. They'd been in the hospital; Sorenson had just gotten shot. It was only a few weeks earlier that they'd met on the kidnapping case of a two-year-old girl.

"Castle" Sorenson greeted him, with his strong jawed face, stern looking as always. God, how could he have forgotten how much he despised the guy.

"What are you doing here?" Not yet willing to accept the new structure of command he was sure Sorenson's presence meant.

"Feds are taking over the case, since you're now dealing with the kidnapping of an NYPD detective."

"And you so happen to be the one on this case?"

"I see you're still here. What, four years still isn't enough inspiration to fill your next novel?" Sorenson raised his eyebrow, ignoring Castle's line of questioning. It hadn't been about the books anymore, for longer than Castle was willing to admit. But he wasn't about to tell that to Sorenson's smug little face. Thank god he didn't have to, because at that moment, Gates and a woman in suit made their way over.

"Great, I see you two have met. Mr. Castle, I'm Special Agent Cho, I will be overseeing this investigation," at that, Castle eyed Sorenson in amusement. So, he wasn't as important as he made himself out to be.

"If you have any questions concerning the investigation, please refer them to Agent Sorenson. He will be taking point," ah, maybe not a full victory on Castle's part after all. "That's all for me at this time. Agent Sorenson, if you could please start with Castle's interview, Captain Gates and I will go over the other aspects of the case. Mr. Castle, it was nice to finally meet you." Castle gave her a smile, and the two women in command left the boys to their who's got a bigger- match.

"So, an interview. Where would you like it? Be careful though, my publicist has warned me to not give away too many spoilers," Castle's joke fell flat as Sorenson started walking towards one of the empty conference rooms.

They got seated in silence after which Sorenson opened his notepad. He scraped his throat, clicked his pen before he started.

"Richard Castle, is that your real name?"

"Really, that's how you feds crack all the tough cases around here? Jeesh, if I would have known that's how easy it is, I wouldn't have had to follow Beckett around for four years."

Sorenson ignored Castle's comment, but while he had been able to remain rather stoic next to his boss, his irritation started to show.

"It's just a standard question of identification, and it made me wonder whether it's your real name."

"Ah… no, my given name is Richard Alexander Rodgers."

He nodded, flicked through the pages of his dossier.

"It says here you warned the DA that Tyson was behind Beckett's kidnapping, how's that?"

"Because Tyson visited her in her cell. But what does any of this matter, Tyson's dead. So that means someone else has Beckett."

"Any idea on who that could be? Anyone she upset recently."

"Hmm, god, upset anyone. A homicide detective who puts people in jail for a living. Let me just take a second to think who might have a personal vendetta against her."

"Listen, I understand we didn't really meet on the best of terms last time, but I used to care a great deal about her, and I still do. We need to go through these questions to see if there's something you guys might have missed. Something that could help us find Beckett, which I believe is everyone's top priority." Castle felt ashamed, and annoyed because Sorenson was right. It was time to put their personal feelings aside, and work together to save Beckett. At that moment, LT and Reggie entered the room, with a few boxes under their arms.

"I've asked some of her colleagues to dig up all your old cases that might benefit from or want to hurt Beckett. If you'll allow me, I would like for us to go over them so we can narrow down our suspects."

"Thanks LT, Reggie," Castle nodded to both men, appreciating their effort to go through what must be close to a hundred cases by now.

* * *

They'd been at it for a while now, but so far no hits. Either the perp was still in jail, deceased, or their MO didn't fit the profile of both kidnapping Beckett and torturing the initial kidnappers, which they believed to be the same guy.

"If you want we can take a break. Come back to these cases later on; I heard you guys have had it pretty rough these last couple of days," Sorenson said, eying Castle's shoulder.

"Ah… Yes, it has been pretty tough. Thanks, I- um I appreciate it. And for what's it worth, I'm sorry for how I was earlier. There's no excuse for the way I treated you, because quite frankly, I was acting like a douche."

"It's ok. We were both still fighting for her approval, even if she isn't here."

Castle couldn't agree more.

"Want me to grab you a coffee?" Castle asked as he got up, heading for the break room.

"Ye-, no wait. My wife's been nagging me I should quit drinking coffee while she has to for the baby so, um. If your machine does teas too, I would highly appreciate it."

Who would have thought, Will Sorenson, married with a baby on the way. While they had already apologized for their behavior towards each other, this last piece of information highly relieved the tension in his shoulders, and the jealousy that came with every guy who had had a longer and more intimate relationship with Beckett than him.

Having gone over possible suspects with Sorenson all morning, Castle hadn't had the time to see Ryan or Esposito yet. He found them huddled over Esposito's phone, in the breakroom.

"Yo, Lanie, Castle's here."

"Hey Lanie," Castle took the seat Ryan offered him, seeing as he was worse off than the other two.

"How'd you sleep hon? Did you put an alarm every two hours like I asked?"

"I did and slept like a baby every two hours," he lied, not wanting to dwell on his own health for too long.

"So, what have you got?"

"As I was telling the boys, Perlmutter and I agree that whoever killed 3XK, wasn't the same guy who killed and tortured those two in New Jersey. Based on liver temp, 3XK was killed around the same time as those two fellows were. Unless your killer can be at two places at once, we are dealing with two different people."

"So when we got to the warehouse-"

"Tyson had already been dead for a couple of hours, yes."

"What do we know about the ones who were tortured. Could it have been the older man their neighbor saw lurking around?"

"Whoever tortured them was a professional. He made sure to create as much pain as possible, being as minimal as possible. And he went on for a while. Ryan, you told me the woman thought the older guy had been there for an hour?"

"Yeah, about an hour."

"Then I'd say our best guess is it was him. The person that would have tortured them like that, two at the same time, might I add, was looking for something very specific from them. He would have only left after he'd gotten whatever it is he came for."

"Do we have a sketch of the guy?" Castle asked, glancing at the murder board which had Kate's face dangling from it. Not wanting to get lost in emotions, he soon returned his eyes to Ryan who responded:

"Not yet, New Jersey didn't have any sketch artists available yesterday. They've only sent one in half an hour ago. Told us they would send it over once they have it."

"Anything interesting about Tyson?" returning to Lanie who was still on the line.

"Other than the fact that he was shot from behind? Not really. He had a great physique, his fingers tips were burned off, but the scar tissue was old suggesting he did it to himself a while ago, probably to evade ever leaving any prints. The shot itself was from a 9mm, which is pretty common. The casing was unmarked, which makes it impossible to trace. That's all I have for you at this point, I'm afraid."

"Thanks Lanie," Castle said as Esposito ended the call.

"Anything else?" Castle asked desperately. While with 3XK, they didn't have any viable leads that they could use to prove his involvement, they at least knew who they were up against. Now, it seemed like the only thing they knew for a fact was that two different people were going around killing people, one of them having kidnapped Beckett in the process, the other using torture for a reason yet unclear.

"CSU's finished their sweep of the place. The only DNA samples they were able to match, were Madison, Beckett and Tyson's. Madison had been stabbed there, and he must have held Beckett hostage until it was time for her to return to Madison's apartment. They found the blueprint of his plans, everything up to the finest details of which alley he would use to drop the body, which blouse the actress and Beckett would be wearing…"

"So a whole lot of nothing, and a confirmation of the story we've been trying to tell the DA from the start. What about those two that took her? Any identification?" Castle gritted his teeth.

"Yeah, we checked with Interpol since they aren't in our system. They are Russian contract killers; Vasili and Ivgeni Ivanov. Escaped arrest about a year ago in Bucharest, must have come in on a fake passport; they've been living in the house we found them in for over 8 months. How they got involved with 3XK is still unclear. Interpol has yet to send over their files."

"Hey guys," Ryan had gone back to his desk. "The sketch's in." Esposito and Castle hurried out of the breakroom. Ryan took a paper out of the printer and placed it up on the board next to Beckett's face. The man in the drawing was in his sixties, had a light stubble of where once a goatee would have been, his nose was broad, the shape of his face vaguely resembling the old man from Pixar's _Up._

"Yes, hello. This is Richard Castle?" both boys looked around as Castle was talking to his phone.

"I heard you wanted to do an interview with me?"

"What are you doing, man?" Esposito questioned. Holding his hand to the receiver, Castle said:

"Trust me, we need this. We can run this guy's face through facial recognition as much as we like but as everything else in this case, I'm willing to bet we won't find him there. It's very kind of the FBI to want to help out, but so far we've got nothing. We're back to square one. We don't know who's got Beckett, and we don't know why. We don't know whether they want something from us, or whether they will simply kill her when the occasion arises. Yes, I'm still here," he said to the voice coming from his phone.

"Perfect, I can be there in 20."

* * *

Last time he had been on the air, it had been to promote his latest Nikki Heat book. He was used to the attention, the spotlight, the gushing flirtatious questions from a lovely interviewer who was able to fuel Castle's charming ladies' man persona. But this was different; he wasn't there to promote anything, or to smile lovingly. He felt nervous, not sure whether this was the correct way to go; especially since he hadn't even run it by Gates or the FBI. Knowing how they operate, he was sure that "pleased" wasn't what they'd be. But there was no turning back now. With the sketch in his hand, a last pinch of makeup, he saw the prompter behind the camera lens count down from three to one, and then the interviewer spoke.

"I'm Kristina Coterra and I am here with a very special guest. He's the mystery novelist we all know and love; he's created our favorite characters such as special agent Derek Storm and our local NYPD detective Nikki Heat. If you haven't been living under a rock, you might know him as New York City's latest super hero, Richard Castle."

The camera panned to Castle, as he made an effort to put on a smile.

"Thanks for having me Coterra, it's always a pleasure."

"Oh please, call me Kristina. Rick, you know how much we love having you here," she said enthusiastically, batting her eyes at both the viewers at home and Castle.

"So tell us, how was it to finally bring an end to the notorious serial killer 3XK?"

Castle hesitated for a second. He knew they would want to talk about that, so he decided to be brief about it. Give them what they want, so you can get what you want, he thought to himself.

"While I have killed many criminals in my past on paper, it is very different from the real thing. It isn't in anyway glamorous or poetic. It is brutal, and it's quick, and I wouldn't wish anyone to have to go through what I did."

"But you had a reason, didn't you? He had taken your partner hostage after framing her for murder, which if I understand correctly you had been saying from the very beginning?"

"Yes indeed. We knew that when Beckett never made it to central booking that day, 3XK was behind it. We eventually found out where he operated from, and in the end, I was forced to kill him."

"That must have been so scary, hunting down a man who has killed dozens of women. And your partner, the inspiration for Nikki Heat, was she there?"

"No, sadly our raid was in vein. There was no sign of her anywhere on scene, and that's why I am here. We believe this man is involved in the kidnapping of Detective Kate Beckett," Castle gently unfolded the sketch, while the camera zoomed in on it.

"I am asking each and every one of you who has ever lost their daughter, their friend, their colleague… please, if you have any idea of the identity of this man, if you have seen him, if you have seen Beckett, please call the homicide division of the 12th precinct. I am willing to reward anyone who has any valuable information on either of their whereabouts with 100,000 dollars. Please. Help us bring her back to the people who love her."

* * *

After the interview, he had gotten a message from Paula saying how his sales were through the roof. He also had a missed phone call from Captain Gates and a message from Esposito who said Gates was absolutely fuming.

Maybe he shouldn't have asked people on national television to call the 12th precinct, well aware how many crazed Castle fans would call, just to get a glimpse of their favorite author. But this seemed like the only way to get a moving in this case. Deciding to walk back instead of taking a cab so he could delay the lecture that he knew awaited him at the precinct, Castle crossed the street into a small park. He had only taken a few steps in when a voice from behind said: "Keep moving like you don't know me and get in the car."

"Why would I-" he turned around.

"You're the guy from the sketch?" his mouth dropped, his eyes noticing the gun pointed at him, concealed underneath the man's long, beige coat.

"That's right, now keep moving and get in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Dun dun duuuuh.


	11. Part II: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Sometimes I wish I would have been older when Castle was on the air; who knows, maybe I could have visited the set or something. Basically, I was too young to have been able to come up with these incredible characters. Also, some of the lines in this chapter were taken from an actual episode x

The last Castle had seen of Manhattan was thirty minutes ago. Thirty minutes prior, he had been walking in a park when he was forced into a car at gunpoint by the man from the sketch; the man Castle had just outed on national television as being connected to Beckett's disappearance, and the man who the 12th suspected of torturing the two Russian contract killers. Castle had tried to talk, offer him money, anything; but the man had turned on the radio, and now The Beatles were blasting through the speakers.

They'd crossed the George Washington bridge a while ago, and they were headed northwest into New Jersey. Every once in a while, Castle would dare to glance sideways. While he was sure he hadn't seen the man before, something about him seemed vaguely familiar. He couldn't quite place him, and quite frankly it was starting to bother him.

Being held hostage wasn't something you could ever really get used to, but ever since his consultancy at the NYPD, Castle had become somewhat of a connoisseur when it came to being forcefully held at gunpoint. Usually, the one holding the gun was either a coldblooded psychopath, or a hysterical person turned murderer.

The man behind the wheel though seemed relax, his fingers tapping to Fleetwood Mac's _Dreams_ that had just replaced _Here Comes the sun_. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the man sitting next to him was just another Boomer on a nostalgia trip. But then the images of the two men's tortured faces appeared before him, and reality sunk in again.

The car came to a halt at a little rundown motel at an intersection of two major highways.

"Out," the man said, waving his gun to give Castle an extra boost of confidence. The sand crunched under his feet, as he took in his surroundings. Maybe he could try to-

"Don't even think about calling anyone," the man finished Castle's thoughts, nodding with his head to follow him. They walked up to one of the rooms on the ground floor. Once inside, the man took of his hat and jacket, and he placed his gun in the safe that came with the room. Castle remained close to the door, his eyes taking in the space before him. It wasn't in anyway messy, but it was clear someone had been living there for a while. There were a few takeout boxes on the corner table, some clothes nicely stacked on the bed, a suitcase bulging from under the bed. On the mirror in the back, there were some paper clippings, pictures of some sorts, but he couldn't quite make out of whom.

"So, what do they know?" the man said, as he sat down on the bed casually, looking up at him expectantly.

"Why should I tell you anything, if I don't even know who you are?" he sounded braver than he felt.

"Who I am is not important. Now, what do they know? The old lady, do they know she's part of it?"

"I'm not answering as long as you don't tell me who you are and why you took me?"

"Fine. Hunt. Jackson Hunt."

"Sounds made-up," Castle scoffed.

"It is, told you it wasn't important." At that moment, Castle's phone rung.

"You want to get that?"

"You just ordered me not to."

"It's probably Alexis. You oughta let her know you're safe," he smiled weakly.

"You know Alexis?" Castle grabbed for his phone, the caller-id unknown.

"Beckett?" he asked hopefully, the phone to his ear.

"I'm afraid not, Mister Castle" a deep Russian voice replied, "but I am the one holding her. If you value her life, you will give the phone to the man standing next to you. The one responsible for the bloodshed in New Jersey." Castle glanced up, exchanged looks with the man sitting on the bed. Who was he? His arm slowly extending, handing his phone over. The man kept his eyes on Castle as he took the phone and said:

"Yeah." Castle moved closer. He needed to know what the hell was going on. He walked past the bed and grabbed the chair in the corner, and sat down beside him.

"It's you, after all these years it is finally you."

"Time to let it go Volkov," the old man's face hardened.

"The way you let my poor daughter Ana go? No, it's time to end things. A life, for a life. I will let her suffer, just like you made her suffer. Twenty-three da-"

"Release her, she has got nothing to do with it," his voice strong, determined.

"On the contrary, Mr. Castle seems to love her very much. And as I now know, Mister Castle has everything to do with it. You know what I want. The ball's in your court. You decide who gets to live, and who gets to die. It's either you or her," the call had ended.

Castle got up, started pacing around the room with this new found and – to be honest – rather vague information. But the one thing that was clear to him was who the reason was for it all.

"This is about you?" he finally stopped pacing, his back to the room and the man on the bed. He just couldn't, he needed more time to process. But he had to know, a voice said.

"Yeah," Castle could see the man's reflection in the mirror in front of him.

"I don't understand. What does this have to do with Beckett? Why would they take her?"

"Because I was careless… Because somehow he found out who she was, who you were and what she meant to you. And he knew I'd come for her."

"Why? Why would you come for her?" Castle turned around, needing to see the look on the man's face, needing to look him in the eyes when he told him why in god's name Beckett was involved in this man's mess.

"Because of what she means to you," the man yelled out in agony, no longer seated.

"And why does that matter to you?" Castle yelled back with matching force.

"Because you're my son," he screamed. The world stopped for a minute. The only thing Castle could hear was the beating of his own heart, the gushing sound of blood in his ears. The traffic that travelled through the thin walls had disappeared, the creaky ventilator above them had stopped to creak. He couldn't possibly be…

"Richard, I'm your father," he said dead simply. The words Castle had secretly wanted to hear the moment he had learned about the concept of father. The words he had heard in countless of Star Wars marathons, pretending every single time that this one line didn't bother him in the slightest, that he couldn't care less. And there they were. Right in front of him. There he was. After all these years, his father.

Castle turned his back to him again, no idea how he was supposed to react or process this new piece of information. His eyes went over the mirror again, only now paying attention to the people in the pictures; the man holding his book in a newspaper clipping. The man on the page, he now realized, was him. And the people in the pictures were his daughter and him.

"So what, you're some kind of spy?" his voice managed to say.

"Intelligence asset is the term," he responded kindly, just as unsure as to how to proceed. _My dad's a spy_ , the words floated through his mind. He had a million questions to ask, and if he could have, he would have asked them all. But they all faded in comparison to the most important one at hand.

"This man who has Beckett, who is he?" pushing aside his father related questions for now. Hoping that when the time came, he would be able to get answers to all of them.

"His name is Gregor Volkov, a psychiatrist and KGB's most feared agent. He was hired at the height of the Cold War, and was their most effective interrogator. He was rumored to be able to change people's perceptions of reality, make them not only give up state secrets but actually turn on their own people and murder their superiors. The CIA was able to rescue some of his victims, but they were unable to break the so-called 'spell' he had casted over them."

"And what does this have to do with you?"

"I was young, new in intelligence; Volkov had a daughter who was about to get married to Dimitri Turgenev, Russian nobility. I was ordered to hit him where it hurt. Some of our intelligence operatives were vengeful, having lost good people to Volkov's torturing techniques.

My task was designed to give him a taste of his own medicine. We captured the girl, Ana. Her fiancé, was high up the list of national enemies, too, so we figured, what better way than to kill two birds with one stone. We interrogated the girl for days, using techniques we knew Volkov would have used too. By the end of it, she went mad and she killed her own fiancé. Twenty-three days later, she committed suicide. My task was done.

First time he came after me, I put him away in a Tsjechen prison for life. Then, he escaped. And he's been figuring out a way to draw me out ever since."

"What about 3XK, where does he fit into this story?"

"He's nothing to it really, and nothing compared to what Volkov and his people are capable of. I was here on a mission when I heard about Beckett being a fugitive for the crime of her friend."

"But she wasn't, she was taken."

"That's what I figured as well. I had heard about this 3XK before; I knew it was you who let him go free last year," a feeling of shame washed over him at those words. Hunt, his father, or whoever the man was in front of him didn't notice though, as he continued:

"I knew in how much danger she was, and how much she meant to you-"

"How did you know what she means to me?" no longer able to contain himself.

"Oh come on, son. You don't have to be a spy to figure that one out. Every word you write these days is a love letter to her," he gave him a half-smile.

"You've read my books?" he asked, for a second forgetting the situation they were in.

"Oh yeah, I greased some wheels with the CIA when you were trying to get access to some information for research. I know that's not much but for a minute there… made me feel like a father." They smiled at each other for a second, conveying to each other where words fell short. Eventually, Castle scraped his throat, returning to business.

"So this Volkov, how did he figure out who I was to you?"

"When I tracked down the two men who had taken her, I didn't know they were part of his family. The ol-"

"The old woman, their neighbor. The one who provided us with a sketch," Castle added, wheels spinning in his head.

"She must have recognized me when I came over and tipped Volkov off. I tortured the two men for an hour before they finally told me where they'd left Beckett. I don't know how 3XK got involved with them, but their loyalty lied with Volkov, not him. They must have known that Volkov would put two and two together, so they stalled me as much as possible to give him enough time to get to Beckett. When I got to the warehouse, they were long gone. I put his body with the evidence, I thought that might make them claim you as the shooter. Like this, they wouldn't look for someone like me. Thanks to your little stunt on TV, however, they are. And now Volkov has me exactly where he wants me, with the full force of the NYPD on his side."

"If you know me at all, you know I'd do anything to save her," Castle took a step forward.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say. He said the ball's in my court; which gives us time."

"How do you know he'll give you time and not just shoot her?"

"He's a maniac, but he's poetic. After his son-in-law was killed, it took his daughter twenty-three days before she committed suicide. He'll give her the same amount of time. Which means we gotta start digging. Now, I've got some possible leads, but I have to stay under the radar. I need you to go back to the precinct, and get me information on that woman, the one who gave you my sketch."

Castle headed for the door when he remembered: "How do I contact you?"

"You don't."

"Then how am I supposed to give you information, how are we supposed to save Beckett if we can't communicate."

"I'll come to you, when it's safe. This already was a risk. Now they know who you are, they will keep track of your every move going forward."

"So what, I'm just supposed to wait around and hope that you'll take me at gunpoint again in a park? Meanwhile they're doing god knows what to Beckett, who might just as well be dead, for all we know. But no… We need to believe she's not. I just need to trust the word of my father who's been absent for forty years who believes that the KBG's most effective agent is poetic, ladies and gentlemen," Castle scoffed with disdain.

"You're getting emotional," he responded calmly.

"Oh, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Although, really, shouldn't a father know their son gets emotional when the woman he l-, the woman he cares about is being held hostage by a Russian war criminal. So, in fact, no. I'm not sorry." All the anger he never knew was inside of him for a father he had never known, seemed to come pouring out. The hurt of not knowing whether his father had willingly left his son fatherless rose to the surface, and showed its ugly head.

The man standing before him seemed nothing like the character Castle had been imagining all these years; Hunt didn't even look like the man he described himself to be. He might be a spy, an intelligence asset, but right then and there, he seemed completely ordinary; a coward.

Hunt raised his eyebrows, as if he was waiting for his four-year-old son to calm down from his tantrum. When he saw the worst had passed, he spoke.

"Richard, I'm sorry for the hurt I put you through. The hurt I put your mother through. It wasn't my decision. I had just come off an operation and was going to be in town indefinitely when I met your mother. Our night together was magical, but then the next day, I was sent out for another mission again. It was only a year later I was home-bound again; it's then that I learned about you," tears were welling up in Castle's eyes. He let them stream over his cheeks, unbothered what the man in front of him might think or say.

"Richard, I don't need you to forgive me, I don't need you to understand. I just need you to know that this," he pointed to everything in the room, "is my life. This is the job I signed up for. And I might have all the cool toys, but it doesn't allow for a family. I'm sorry that my mess became yours; this is exactly why I never came forward. To avoid this."

Castle had no words to say or even think. His mind was blank; unable to process a story that seemed even too farfetched for him to write. His father was a spy; his father was the reason Beckett was in danger. Beckett. She needed to be priority, no more emotions. Castle scraped his throat:

"Okay, I will go back to the precinct and continue the investigation. I guess you know where to find me."


	12. Part II: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Andrew; the words and narrative are mine.

It seemed like hours since Castle had been on national TV asking for leads on Beckett. It seemed like weeks since he'd last been in the precinct. The ride back to the city had been a big blur; as if his mind had just quit. It was only when he set foot on the homicide floor and three people came storming at him, that he awoke from his daze.

"Mister Castle," Captain Gates's voice raised.

"Care to explain your little stunt that was not only reckless but is causing us hundreds of men hour? The phones have been ringing off the hook!" Next to her, Special Agent Sorenson and Cho were glaring at him with matching looks to the one Gates was giving him. He could see Ryan and Esposito behind them, both at their respective desks pretending to work, in reality, eavesdropping on the biggest tell off Gates was about to give him.

"Wait, did you say off the hook?" stepping past them, into the bullpen towards the murder board.

"Mister Castle," they all followed him. His eyes inspecting the board, finding no mention of their eyewitness, except for the description of his father, with a glaring gap next to it where the sketch used to hang.

"Ryan, Espo, did any of you ever look into the woman that gave us the description?" he said, ignoring his superior and the feds breathing down his neck.

Ryan and Esposito glanced at each other, then at Gates before they came stand beside him.

"No, we didn't ever see reason to. Why? You think she's involved?" Ryan asked, trying his best to avoid Gates's glare.

"Just think about it. She said she's been calling on her neighbors for years, right? But she never had evidence so the police never bothered. According to Interpol, the brothers only came to the US about 8 months ago. Even if she was exaggerating about the duration, think about it… I don't know about you, but if my backdoor neighbors would keep calling on whatever illegal activity I was doing, I wouldn't keep a door in place that connected my garden to theirs."

"What does any of this have to do with Beckett? Your MEs said that whoever shot 3XK and took Kate weren't the ones who tortured the Ivanov brothers. Who says they weren't killed for some other reason entirely? Who cares about a stupid door between two gardens? It's just a door," Sorenson interjected.

"On the contrary, it explains everything. Ryan, I bet you that if you check that woman's call history you won't find any of those alleged calls she made to the New Jersey PD."

"You think that she and those guys were working together?" Esposito pitched in.

"Yes I do. Even more so, I think she made up the guy in the sketch to distract us from what's really happening. Like you said, Sorenson, Lanie and Perlmutter already confirmed that whoever took Beckett wasn't the same person who tortured these guys. Who cares who tortured them, it's the people who have Beckett that we want. And I think that that old woman was working together with those two for whoever their boss is. We question her, we find them. We find them; we find Beckett."

Before Castle had left, his dad had asked him to – when given the chance – erase his involvement in the case. Hunt had said it would hurt the CIA deeply if his identity would become known to the public. Castle knew his theory was farfetched at best, but he needed for them to find evidence of Volkov's involvement; he hoped that the story he had come up with would suffice to convince them.

Glancing around the room he saw he had half the crowd convinced. Ryan and Espo who had come to learn and trust Castle's crazy theories over time, were fully on board. Ryan had even run back to his computer to start digging into their witness. Gates and the feds seemed less convinced, especially Sorenson. But before he was able to speak, Castle interrupted, deciding now was the time for damage control.

"I'm so sorry, Captain Gates. I should have convened with you before going on national television. But you know me, my emotions tend to get the better of me. I apologize deeply for the hundreds of men hour I will possibly have cost you. If it helps, I will gladly pay these officers out of my own pocket for the extra work my little stunt has cost the NYPD. I just think it is important that we go through all possible means to find her back as soon as possible. For the team, but also for her poor father."

He knew that last sentence was a stretch, knowing that Gates wasn't one for sympathy. There must have been something in his words, however, that moved her, because her face softened just for a second before it strengthened again; her authority back in place.

"I will let our people send the bill to your accountant, Mr. Castle. Now continue this angle, but if it doesn't pan out, my detectives take over again and you will let it go. Understood?"

Castle nodded, doing his best to contain his glee. His father seemed to be in the clear... for now. The women returned to Gates' office, when he remembered:

"Captain Gates?"

She turned around, having close to no patience left for Castle today.

"The people who called with information, where can I find their notes?"

"Ask LT and Detective Ramos, they've been working on it since lunch."

With that, she closed the door behind her.

"There's something you aren't telling them," Sorenson stated, having remained next to Castle at the whiteboard.

"I don't know what you mean?" Castle pretended.

"You go on national television, practically declaring war on the guy in the sketch, then it takes you, what? Three hours to return? And now you come in as if nothing has happened, denouncing the old woman based off a door between their gardens, claiming that the guy from the sketch isn't at all relevant. In fact, you think he must be made up?"

"Pretty much," Castle saw no point in denying it. It was better to have Sorenson have his moment than to try to convince him otherwise.

"Where were you these past three hours? I know you weren't here. I also don't believe your ego needs three hours worth of stroking at the TV Network."

"How do you know? Maybe three hours is exactly the time I need to get my ego boost," Castle countered.

"I called the station, seeing as your phone went straight to voicemail. So, where did you go?"

"If you truly want to know I went by the hospital to get a check-up; as you might recall I took a fall yesterday. My shoulder was hurting, and my head was still spinning."

"And you so happened to turn off your phone for those three hours?"

"I had to turn it off when they took a scan, must have forgotten to turn it back on. Now, are we going to do this all day because I was under the impression we had leads that didn't include me," he raised his voice just enough for some heads to turn. Esposito looked up, noticing the rising animosity between the two guys.

"Everything ok?" checking for Castle's response, ready to pounce Sorenson if need be. Esposito had never liked the guy. He remembered how heartbroken Beckett had been when he had chosen Boston over her.

"Yeah, everything's just fine," Sorenson gritted his teeth, deciding to leave them to it for a while as he headed towards the breakroom.

Once he was gone, Esposito beckoned Castle to his desk.

"Where did you go?" he looked around, making sure no one was paying attention.

"The hospital, like I said."

"Uhu, sure you were," Esposito did a mean impersonation of Lanie.

"Lanie took scans on the scene yesterday and she said everything was just fine. Everything got a bit jungled up, that's all. At least tell me who tipped you off on this new hunch."

"There's nothing to tell. It just came to me; you know how those things go?" Castle damned himself for his wavering smoothness. Esposito noticed it too, but decided not to comment. Whatever Castle hadn't gotten himself into, as long as it provided results, he didn't care.

"You were right, Castle," Ryan said behind them.

"I was?" Castle said with a little too much surprise that had both boys look up.

"Yeah," Ryan decided to let it go. "I looked at her call list from this year; there were no calls to any police department. Yesterday either; which means she lied to us."

"Are there any reoccurring calls? Or anything on her? Who is she?"

"Wait, let me just…" he started typing away.

"There you go. Tatiana Molinskaja… wait, it says here she is related to Gregor Volkov,"

"Volkov?" Esposito asked, while Castle pretended not to know who he was either, thanking his lucky star that they found the connection so easily.

"Did you guys say Gregor Volkov?" Sorenson walked into the bullpen, his cup of tea fuming.

"Yeah, why? Who is he?" Castle asked.

"He's an old KBG spy, notorious for psychological torture. He escaped prison years ago, and is rumored to live in New York City. It's all speculation, though. No one has seen him in years. What would he want with Kate?" Sorenson came to a halt next to their desk.

"No clue, but it looks like we are going to have to pay our freakish puppet lady another visit," they were all getting up, moving towards the elevator when they noticed Castle hadn't moved.

"Castle, you coming?" Ryan asked.

"No, I think I'm going to sit this one out."

"But it was your theory?" Esposito said questioningly.

"Yeah, but I also asked people to call the NYPD with information. Doesn't seem right to let LT and Reggie sift through it by themselves. Who knows, if the old lady doesn't pan out, maybe these calls will. Plus, her dolls really creeped me out." Ryan and Sorenson seemed little convinced, while Esposito had already stepped into the elevator.

"Sort yourself, Castle." The doors closed.

If the woman was really involved with Volkov, he didn't expect her to hang around for much longer. She would have been notified the moment Volkov had had his talk with Hunt; he would probably have warned her that their might be a chance the NYPD would come knocking. Instead of wasting his time on a useless trip to New Jersey, he'd sift through calls.

Even if they knew Volkov was involved, that didn't mean they were any closer to figuring out where he held Beckett. Like Sorenson had said, no one had seen him in years. From what he could tell, Volkov had a whole network of people working for him. He would probably not have gone out into the field himself to murder 3XK and take Beckett. He'd leave someone else to it. So, that meant that right now, those phone calls where his only lead.

* * *

He had been at it for the last two hours or so, when the boys made it back. As expected, most of the people who had called were fans hoping to get to hear Castle's voice. There were some saying they were the man in the drawing, which of course, Castle knew they weren't. Others had said they'd seen Beckett at their local hairdressers in Queens; that she'd been a regular for the past three years. He should come by, maybe bring a signed copy of his latest Nikki Heat?

He'd had hope briefly when someone had said they had seen a brunette with curls near Tyson's lair, but when Castle had called them back, they said they were mistaken, and they'd actually just seen their neighbor Bettie.

"How did it go?" Castle looked up, glad to have his neck in an upright position again. Ryan and Esposito looked tired; the day had been a long one. The sun had set half an hour ago.

"Total bust. The woman's in the clear. Talked to some of her neighbors who said she had left around the time our sketch artist had left. They said it seemed like she was going away for a while; like she was going on a trip," Esposito said, flicking through his notepad.

"Did you have any luck?" Ryan asked, taking a seat while he untied his tie with a sigh. He started skimming through the dozens of notes still unchecked.

"Nope, but be my guest. These people are a real treat. Their imagination and desperation to meet me is unparalleled. Some actually gave me ideas for a next Nikki Heat which weren't half bad. Where's Sorenson?"

"Went to report back to Gates and Cho. Come up with a strategy. He said they would likely set up a call system in case they would call with demands," Esposito took the chair across from Castle, placing his feet on the notes, not caring that he was messing up the system Castle had meticulously created over the past two hours.

"Wouldn't they have called by now if they had any?" Castle asked, pushing Espo's feet of the table which rewarded him with an ugly glare.

"I don't know man; it doesn't make any sense. Who would kill 3XK to kidnap Beckett?"

"Do you think this has something to do with her mother's case?" Ryan lowered his voice, making sure no one was paying attention to them.

"No we checked; Maddox is still in Ryker's, and she struck a deal with Bracken remember?" Castle replied.

"Plus, there's the Russian guy, Volkov. I asked Interpol to send us his files over; if we believe what Sorenson had to say on the guy, he's bad news."

"Maybe it has something to do with when Beckett was in Europe on exchange. Didn't she spend a semester in Kiev?" Ryan offered.

"I don't know, bro. Do you really think a college girl could possibly do something on her exchange to anger one of their top KGB agents?"

"Okay, what about the guy in the sketch. Castle, I know you think she made him up, but, why would she? Someone did torture the two brothers; their bodies are in the morgue as we speak."

"Maybe she murdered them himself? I have no clue. Even if she was telling the truth about the guy, he doesn't belong to their organization. Otherwise, she wouldn't have given him up so freely," Castle countered, hoping it would be enough to stir them away from Hunt.

"You have a point. Wait, actually. How would she know to run? We didn't warn her we'd be coming-"

"which means someone must have tipped her off. Maybe it was Volkov himself?" Castle added, already getting up and heading towards Ryan's computer.

"You already managed to get her phone records, right?" Castle said as he moved the computer into action. Password protected, the screen said.

"Right, forgot I wasn't a cop for a second," he got up, let Ryan take over. After some clicks and some taps, he had pulled up her records.

"There you go."

"There, that number. Seems like she called it every week at the same time. Except for today, the number called her," Castle pointed, grateful for his speedreading ability.

"What's the number?" Esposito asked from his desk. Castle read the numbers out loud, hoping it would be that simple. That all they would need was a number that would lead them straight to where Beckett was being held captive.

"It's a blocked number. There's no way to trace it nor know who it belongs to."

Back to square one, he thought.

* * *

With the old woman on the run, and no sign of the man in the sketch, they were out of leads. No one on the island of Manhattan seemed to have seen or heard from Beckett. Neither CSU nor Lanie found any new details that could provide them with a possible lead. They had run out of options, and they were getting desperate. Two weeks had passed, with nothing to go on. They checked all available camera footage without success. The system the FBI had set up for the kidnappers to request demands had remained unmoved. No one came forward. It seemed as if Beckett had simply vanished from the earth.

Castle spent his days at the precinct. With Martha and Alexis going into the final stretch of their holidays, the loft was empty, uninviting. Castle and the boys kept going through the phone calls, but they too seemed to lower in number with every passing day. They retraced leads, went back to the scene of the crime; anything, but alas.

Every now and then, Castle returned to the loft; it was his obligatory outing to not worry any of the others at the precinct. He'd go home to take a shower, maybe change. When it was later in the evening and he was sure everyone he knew would have gone home, he'd return to the precinct. He'd sit in Beckett's chair, and he'd stare at her portrait. Hoping that by some magical power, a new lead would reveal itself.

Whenever he went home, he went by foot. Made sure to enter every park on his way to his loft. He would never have imagined a day would come where he'd hope to be taken at gunshot in a park; now, it seemed like it was the only thing that kept him sane. He kept seeing his father everywhere he went; on the street, in his local coffee shop, in the mirror. But whenever he'd blink, it would just be someone who vaguely resembled his father.

At one point, he had even driven back to the motel in New Jersey. But if he had to believe the concierge, the man in question had never even stayed there.

* * *

Twenty-one days had passed since the morning that Beckett was kidnapped from her own precinct. The FBI had left the day before, stating that with the longevity of Beckett's radio silence, there was little hope left of finding her alive. Castle too had lost all hope. If Hunt had been right about Volkov, it meant that they had two days left before he would dispose of Beckett.

Overrun by emotions, and surviving on the small amount of adrenaline his sleep deprivation provided, Castle's anger had shifted from Volkov to Hunt. If it were not for him, Beckett would have been home, she would have been safe. _You don't know that_ , a voice said. _You don't know what would have happened if Volkov's people hadn't come in and killed 3XK. Maybe Beckett would have been dead already?_

Even so, where was Hunt? Castle was beyond annoyed that he had no way of contacting him. All he had left to do was wait, and hope that whatever Hunt had been up to for the past three weeks, he was closing in on Volkov.

He was chewing on some cold leftover in the kitchen, when the door of his loft opened. Putting on an act, he got up to welcome his two favorite redheads back from their trip.

"Daddy," Alexis dropped her bags and jumped into Rick's arms.

"How I've missed you, Pumpkin," he hugged her tightly, a little longer than he normally would. It was the first instance of joy he had felt in these past three weeks.

"Richard, what have you done with the place?" his mother said, noticing the many empty boxes of take-out food he had compiled in the few hours he spent at home every day.

"And how I've missed you too, Mother. How was it? Tell me everything, I want to know absolutely everything" he said.

Alexis and Martha had talked throughout dinner nonstop. Telling him about all the wonderful places, "Dad, we should go there together next time, you'll absolutely love it," Alexis had said. Castle had lied to them about Beckett. He didn't know what had gotten in to him, but he didn't want to spoil Alexis's graduation holiday. After dinner, Alexis had retired to her bedroom, exhausted from her trip and the pending jetlag that was waiting to happen. Martha had stayed behind, to help clean up.

"So, any word on Beckett?" her tone serious.

He should have known his mother wouldn't believe him. It was she after all who had taught him how to lie.

"Nothing, mother. It's like she's a ghost."

"Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something we could do." She opened her arms and hugged her son.

"I know, mother. Me too."

"Do you want some company? We could have a whisky night? Maybe it will make you feel better for a little while?" He appreciated his mother for trying, but if he was being completely honest, he wanted her to leave him alone so he could go back to the precinct without judgement.

"I'm fine but thanks, mother. You should go to bed, I'm sure you are exhausted," it seemed for a second like she wasn't going to give up, but then she shrugged, gave him a kiss and went up stairs.

Only thirty more minutes and he would go back to the precinct. He walked into his office when he heard the voice behind him.

"Richard," Castle turned around. His father was sitting in the chair next to the window, a whisky in his hand.


	13. Part II: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine; neither is some of the dialogue.

"How'd you get in here," Castle whispered, quickly closing the door to his office so no one else would hear.

"It's rather easy, actually. Your doorman is kind, but lets almost anyone in with a good excuse," his father smiled sheepishly.

"Is that what you came to tell me? That I need to hire a better doorman?" Castle asked, undecided on whether to hate or trust the man sitting in front of him. It seemed like those were the only two options.

"I found her. Took me a while; something spooked of the old woman I asked you to look into. Tracked her down last week, finally got her to talk," he said matter-of-factly.

"And?" Castle, having no patience for games.

"Volkov works out of a cigar factory in Queens; he keeps Beckett in the basement."

For the first time in weeks, Castle felt like he was alive again. He knew where Beckett was, and he was going to get her out of there.

"So what's our plan. How do we get there?"

"You will need to call up your buddies, take the FBI agent with you too. Here's the address," he slipped him a piece of paper from his inner left pocket.

"What about you? I thought this whole mess came down to you?" Castle attempted to control his temper.

"I will be there too, but I will be working from the sidelines. They can't know of my involvement, son. When you get Beckett out, it has to be you and the NYPD. Not me. Now listen closely…"

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Castle to assemble a team. Explaining how he had found out about the place, was more complicated. Eventually he went with the "I have connections in places and people that owe me" card, and hoped that would suffice. They were two minutes out, only one police car. Since they didn't have any proof of Beckett being there, they couldn't simply enter the building with two SWAT teams, like they'd done last time. Instead, Ryan had found a health inspection claim from a while back, that suspected the factory of practices that didn't abide to NYC's health code. This would have to explain to One PP and the press, how they'd entered legally; if all things went according to plan, that is. Esposito and Ryan sat in the front, which meant Castle was stuck with Sorenson in the back.

Castle had argued against Sorenson, but as Hunt had pointed out; they could use all the hands they could get. And when it came down to it, Becket had a better shot with Sorenson on the case, than with Castle, who was merely a writer. He had had a point, and so, there they sat.

"Alright, we'll be there in less than a minute. According to the plans, the opening to the sewer system should be accessible from here. Are you sure this is how you want to play it?" Esposito mistrusting the plan his father had come up with. Castle couldn't tell them that there would be an extra set of eyes and ears on site, so he repeated that yes, that's how he wanted to go about it.

The car came to a halt, one block away. They got out as quietly as possible, forming lines as they headed towards the warehouse. They found the trapdoor right where Hunt had marked it on their map.

"See you on the other side," Castle said, lowering himself in the hole. The three guys nodded, closed the door, and Castle was on his own, but not for long. He turned on his flashlight, got himself oriented and started walking east towards the factory where they held Beckett.

"Everything alright?" Hunt's voice sounded through the earpiece.

"Yes, everything's in place."

"Perfect, at the next intersection go left; it will take you another 3 minutes and then you should find the conduit on your right-hand side. As we've discussed, once you've hit those, they will lose power which will allow your friends in."

Castle made his way through the cylinder, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness. He was glad the sewer wasn't in use anymore; he would have been far less excited to have to weed his way through sewage water. He hoped that everything would go to plan; that the boys got to their positions in time, and he'd get Beckett out safely.

"Alright, I'm there," he said, his flashlight hitting a wall of tubes and an electricity conduit.

"The one you want is the third one from the bottom."

"Got it," he said, as he wrapped a detonator on the third pipe from the bottom.

"Set it to thirty seconds," Castle pressed a few buttons, like his dad had taught him.

"Thirty seconds going in now," he said, as he moved away from the pipes. He was about to go back from whence he came, when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey, don't move," a heavy female Russian voice said. Another guy next to her was pointing his weapon straight at Castle.

"We might have a problem," Castle said to his earpiece, while he raised his left arm, the right one still healing from being dislocated.

* * *

After explaining his wound, Castle was allowed to walk with only one arm raised. They had confiscated the gun and the earpiece he was carrying, and lead him out of the sewage into the factory. They entered a large hangar, where machines would normally work. Now, it was empty except for some couches, a table, spotlights, and at least ten armed people. On the couch sat a man Castle couldn't make out; the light was directed at him, which created a blind spot.

"You are like your father, Mister Castle," the man on the couch got up, stepped out of the light, and Castle could finally see his face. Gregor Volkov.

"Getting involved where you do not belong," he said with a heavy accent.

"Well technically, it was you who got me involved," he retorted, immediately regretting his constant need to open his mouth. Volkov didn't seem to be bothered in the least as he continued, his arm raised, gun in hand.

"Did he really think I would not be prepared for an attack? He took his time though, her time's almost over," his voice echoing off the walls.

"Beckett, where is she?"

"Ah, but that is not what we agreed upon. A life for a life, Mister Castle."

"Take me then. You wanted a life for a life, what better way to get your vengeance than to kill me."

"You don't understand, do you? You think we would be even like this? No, I need him to understand what it feels like. To have your daughter be so taken by grief that she takes her own life. I want him to watch as I destroy you and your girl."

"иди возьми ее (go get her)," he said to one of his guards who left towards where Castle believed the basement to be.

Another guard walked up to him, and handed him the earpiece Castle had been wearing.

"I know you are here, I know you are close, and I want you to know that I have your son," he said to it, his gun raised again. "You have ten seconds to show yourself in this hangar, give yourself up. Or I will kill him, right here and now."

He started counting down, walking back towards his couch. As if a king, he placed himself on his golden throne. His eyes fixated on the door of the hangar, where he expected for Hunt to show his face any second now. He was at five. Castle looked around, his heart almost erupting from his body of sheer adrenaline.

"Four, three, two-"

Hunt spoke through the earpiece.

"You're not going to kill my son, Volkov," Castle was just able to hear.

"No? And why is that?"

"Because you'll be dead," was all Castle needed to hear. What followed was one big blur. Everything went at triple speed, but at the same time, it seemed as if time had stopped entirely. The earpiece exploded, Volkov lay dead on the floor. The guard closest to him, was gone too. Castle started running towards the basement. He heard shots being fired. The guards in the room took cover; aimed aimlessly as bullets rained down on them; he could hear Esposito and Sorenson's screams as they fired another round. With his uninjured arm, Castle blasted through the door towards the basement. He heard shots at the end of the declining hallway, his feet gaining speed. "Beckett, Ryan," he yelled. He heard a scream in the distance.

I'm almost there, he wanted to scream. He turned the corner and there they were. Three Russian bodies lay on the ground, Ryan holding Beckett. She was alive. He ran towards her, unable to contain his emotions; he finally had her back. As he reached out to her, Ryan collapsed to the ground. He was just in time to support Beckett, who seemed to be near unconsciousness herself.

"Ryan!" he screamed. Trying to combine the weight of Beckett on his injured shoulder, while checking if Ryan was alright. He was shot in his upper left shoulder, his vest coloring dark.

"Shit," he cursed. Yelling out for Esposito and Sorenson, hoping they would come get them. He lowered Beckett to the side, hoping that whatever had happened to her; she'd be fine. He tore a piece of his shirt, wrapping it around Ryan's shoulder, providing pressure to the wound. He yelled again, as Ryan seemed to fluctuate in and out of consciousness. Then, he heard footsteps headed his way.

"Castle," he heard Esposito.

"Espo, we're here!" flashlights hit his eyes.

"Damn it," he heard Esposito, as he ran in on the situation.

"They're on their way, Sorenson is at the door ready to let them in."

Esposito took over from Castle, picking up Ryan whose face had gone white.

"Come on buddy," he heard him say; Ryan muttering under his breath.

Castle hurried back to Beckett; he picked her up, his shoulder screaming out in pain. He pushed through it, needing for her to be okay. He felt her breath against his neck, reassuring him that she was alive. Back in the hangar, he heard sirens approaching. The space was the definition of a bloodbath. Bodies lay spread out over the floor, red its new color.

Sorenson had come back to aid Esposito as they carried Ryan out of the factory. Castle followed, grateful to have her in his arms. Exiting the hangar, he was blinded by the excess of lights. A helicopter was flying above them, three vans of local TV stations stood lined up next to one another; on his left, there were two ambulances, three cop cars.

"Castle," he heard Lanie call out from the left. With effort, he carried Beckett to the ambulance.

"Lanie, I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's alive. She's breathing," he said as she opened the door for them. Two paramedics ready to take her. They were ready to kick him out when Lanie interjected.

"We're both staying, so get your asses moving and get this woman to the hospital," she spat, not waiting for an answer, already closing the door. Once the ambulance started moving, Castle seemed to be able to take his first breath in what seemed hours. His eyes never left Beckett. She looked terrible. Worse than when she had been shot at Montgomery's funeral, last year, if that was even possible.

Her face seemed emaciated, all the color drained. Her hair was greasy, tangled with blood. She had scrapes over her arms, her wrists were bloody, as if they'd been cuffed for too long a period. The same marks were visible on her ankles.

The ride seemed to take forever; the paramedics poked her with needles, attaching IVs and fluids. At least her heart monitor was somewhat stable. Lanie who kept holding both Beckett and Castle's hand told him as much. Beckett was going to get through this.

Once they arrived, their privileges to follow Beckett were revoked. The doctors told them she was in good care, but Castle was barely listening. He felt how Lanie pushed him down on a chair, after which he remembered about Ryan.

"Ryan," his voice said weakly.

"I'm calling them now; they should be here any second. They left right after us," Lanie said, worried.

"We shouldn't have let him go alone," Castle muttered to himself.

"Castle, don't-" Lanie interjected.

"It's true, Lanie. He had to face three guards by himself to get Beckett out."

"You couldn't have known, Castle," she replied, going to voicemail yet again. But he knew he could have, they knew approximately how many guards were on scene. They shouldn't have let him go by himself.

The ER doors opened, with Ryan on a gurney followed by Esposito and Sorenson. Both Castle and Lanie got up, but allowing space for them to pass. Ryan looked worse than he had on the scene.

"Oh, Javi. Is he alright?" Lanie asked, throwing her arms around Espo whose face had gone white too.

"They say the bullet went through, so he should live," he responded unconvincingly.

Sorenson who looked bad as well, sat himself down. Exhausted, he looked up again at Castle.

"Your guy, tell him I said thanks," he smiled weakly. Castle nodded, unable to even lift the corners of his mouth. When he and Hunt had come up with the plan, they knew Volkov would want to communicate with Hunt. With Esposito and Sorenson in the room, they hoped he wouldn't reveal Hunt's identity; that's why they went for the earpiece instead of a radio. He hoped it had been enough; and that Hunt had made it out in time for the press and cops to arrive on scene.

* * *

It was 2 am. Ryan was still in surgery, but Beckett had been brought to a room. Captain Gates had come by, asking for an explanation for this unauthorized bloodbath. Esposito had done most of the talking, allowing Castle to sit with his hands in his air, waiting to hear back about both Kevin and Kate. Then Jim Beckett had shown up; when he heard that they'd been able to save Beckett and she was alive, he hugged the three men, and Lanie who was crying. A little later, Martha and Alexis joined the gang, their faces distraught. Alexis in tears, poking her dad for having lied to her about Beckett. Castle didn't get the time to apologize, when she hugged him fiercely as she whispered: "I'm glad you're both alright."

"Me too, honey. Me too."

* * *

It was 4 am, Ryan was still in the ICU, recovering from his surgery. Jenny had only been able to make it in half an hour ago. Castle was still in his chair, Alexis was sleeping with her head on his lap. A doctor made his way over to the group of people, a clipboard in his hand.

"I would like to speak to a family member of Katherine Beckett?" his voice was lowered. Jim Beckett got up, while the others raised their heads.

"Will you follow me somewhere private?" Castle was about to object when Mr. Beckett replied: "I trust these people with my daughter's life. Whatever you want to tell me, they should hear it too."

The doctor glanced at them, hesitantly, before he opened his chart.

"When your daughter came in, she was in very bad condition. She was dehydrated, sleep deprived and malnourished; she also sustained multiple injuries. Two of her ribs are fractured, her wrists and ankles are strained, one of her ligaments is torn. We put her on various fluids and antibiotics. It is good that she came in when she did. We will have to keep her here for a while, until all her vitals are stable again. But we believe she will make a full physical recovery. Mentally, we don't know yet. From what I can tell, she has been through a lot. And I suggest you consider therapy from the moment she is capable of it."

"Thank you doctor-"

"Wise," he replied kindly.

"When can I see my daughter?"

"I suggest you all go home; we don't suspect her to wake up for the next ten to twenty-four hours. Her body will need all the rest she can get. But if you want," seeing Jim's disappointment, "I can allow you five minutes, just to see her?"

"Thank you, that would be very kind. Are we allowed to go by two?" he asked, glancing at Castle who smiled back at him.

"Uhm, sure, one more couldn't hurt. Just know that she is wired up to a lot of machines right now, and she looks very weak."

"Rick?" Jim awaited him expectantly. The others remained seated, not wanting to leave yet. Waiting for Jenny to be allowed to see her husband.

Castle placed a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead, waking her up.

"Sweety, I'm going to see Beckett for a minute ok?"

"Alright," she mumbled as he placed her head on the chair. He followed Doctor Wise and Mr. Beckett through the hallway. After a minute they halted next to room 117.

"After you," Mr. Beckett said. Castle took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he'd see as he opened the door. The room was dark, except for the multiple red and yellow lights of monitors and machines that buzzed around her bed.

She looked fragile, almost unrecognizable. He walked around the bed, allowing for Mr. Beckett to take the seat by her side. They sat there in silence. Neither daring or feeling the need to speak. He reached out to her hand, warm in his. She was alive. She was safe. After the five minutes were up, they were escorted back to the others, who informed them that Jenny was allowed to see Ryan. One after the other, they started to leave. Both were safe; they would reconvene in the morning.

* * *

The next day, Beckett was still asleep. Ryan on the other hand, was up and talking. While normally, only two people were allowed in the room, the hospital had made an exception which meant the room was overcrowded. Castle and his family had come to see him, Jenny and Esposito had never left his side; Lanie was there too, Captain Gates and Sorenson had made an appearance.

They were laughing, cracking jokes. Ryan retelling how he had tricked one of the guards into believing he was a guard too, just by faking a Russian accent. While everything was light and fun, Castle and the others knew reality was looming around the corner. Luckily, they had had the health inspector warrant with them when they had raided the place; it was somewhat able to explain how two NYPD officers, a Special agent and a mystery writer/consultant had taken down the KGB's most effective spy and his whole entourage, while Interpol had been looking for them for years.

The other part that was very real, was when Kate would awake, and how she would cope with the horrors she most certainly would have endured.

From the moment he was allowed, Castle spent every waking minute by her bedside. He observed as they changed her tubes, how the machines slowly lessened over the days. Castle wasn't the only one. Whenever Jim Beckett was able to leave work, he was seated next to his daughter; Sorenson too made it twice to three times a day, to check up on her.

It was on the fourth day that she finally awoke. Mr. Beckett had just gone out to get some coffee when Beckett started to stir. Both Sorenson and Castle got up from their chairs, holding their breaths expectantly.

"I'll call a nurse," Sorenson said, already exiting the room. Castle got closer, saw how life, for the first time in four days, seemed to take hold of her body again. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light and the room.

"Hey, here to bust you out," Castle said, trying to go for the funny but cute approach.

Beckett tried to get up, grimaced as she moved, her eyes still trying to focus.

"Where am I?" her voice sounded raspy, barely audible.

"Hospital, Sorenson went to get a nurse," he said, softly, allowing her to gain consciousness over her surroundings.

"Sorenson's here?" she asked puzzled. At that same moment, Sorenson entered with a male nurse who started looking at her charts, readjusting some cables and lifting the bed in a more upright position.

"Hey, Will," she spoke, giving him a soft smile.

"You gave us quite the scare, Kate," Sorenson approached her from the other side of the bed.

Kate extended her hand to his, "why are you here?" she asked.

Castle watched closely as the two exchanged pleasantries. He was disappointed to say the least, a little hurt if he was being honest. He had expected her to be hazy when she would first awake; what he hadn't expected was for her to completely ignore him, and go all lovey-dovey on Sorenson.

"Castle couldn't crack it on his own, so he had to call me in," he joked. She on the other hand seemed puzzled.

"Castle?" she looked at him for the first time. Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh god, the pain meds must be making me fuzzy. It's like Richard Castle is standing here," he heard her say.

"Ha ha, very funny, Kate," Castle responded. While his heart had stopped, he was sure she must be joking, right?

"Um," she looked at both of them, unsure of what was happening.

"Kate, what do you mean?" Sorenson tried, just as confused as Castle.

"Remember this mystery author I used to love, this officer looks just like him," she replied, giving Castle a shy smile.

"Truly, you only seem taller than I would have pictured him," she added, sensing the awkwardness in the room.

"So you're telling the truth when you say you have no idea who I am?" Caslte tried again. Hoping with all his heart that Kate was pulling one cruel joke.

"Um… should I?" she asked, glancing between Castle and Sorenson, hoping for someone to explain to her what the hell was going on.


	14. Part III: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Andrew Marlowe wrote a story about a writer and his muse. They, in turn, became my muse and and I their writer (not creator ;) ).

"You don't understand, she's sober alright. She recognizes both her father and Sorenson; she knows that Montgomery is dead. She seems to know everything until Madi's murder, except for me," Castle tried for the umpteenth time. He was surrounded by Dr. Wise, Dr. Shepherd from Neuro and a few nurses.

"Mister Castle, please lower your voice," one of them said. They were standing right outside of Beckett's door.

"It is normal to be a little confused after the trauma she has endured; allow her some time to regain her bearings.," Dr. Wise said. Castle was about to object when the head of Neuro interjected.

"Mister Castle, we understand that this must be difficult. Have some patience; I will do some neurological tests to see what might be causing this temporary memory loss. I've also called in a psychiatrist who is specialized in trauma and abduction patients. Please, give it some time," she said placing her hand on his shoulder as he was about to speak again.

"The scans we took of her when she came in were clear; she didn't sustain any injuries to her brain as far as we know. So, whatever it is that is going on, could just as well be some confusion, or her mind's way to temporarily deal with the trauma." She smiled at him kindly.

"Thank you," he said, knowing that it wasn't fair of him to take it out on them.

"Tell her we'll come by in 15, when visitor hour is over, okay?" Dr. Shepherd said, leaving him to it.

Castle took a moment to calm himself, before he opened the door to her room again. Both her dad and Sorensen were at her bedside, but Beckett was asleep again. A gut-wrenching feeling went through him at the sight of Sorenson stroking her hand softly. Mr. Beckett turned his head, his face stricken with pity for him. He got up and pushed Castle back out of the room, as if he'd better not see. Better not see how it was Sorenson comforting his daughter, not him. Because what was the point? Why would she want to be comforted by him?

"I'm sorry, Rick," he said once outside. "She said she was tired, I didn't want her to force herself," Castle glanced back at the door. If only, he could go back in. Wake her up, make her remember.

"It's-" okay, he wanted to say. But the words died in his mouth. Even lying at this point was too difficult for him.

"Maybe it will be better tomorrow?" Mr. Beckett offered, and even though Castle knew it wouldn't be he responded with a "yeah, probably".

They remained in the hallway for a while, a few nurses passed them. Castle, not looking anywhere specific. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't stay there, only a door away from her. She was alive and safe, but instead of Castle being the one to hold her hand, instead of her father pushing Sorenson out the door because she was too tired, he was the one now being pushed into the hallway.

Because why would she want him there? Why would she want a complete stranger that vaguely reminded her of her favorite novelist to sit next to her? She was only allowed two guests at a time; why would she choose him over her own father and her ex-boyfriend who had heroically saved her from the claws of a Russian spy?

Castle had to leave; his legs moving on their own accord.

"Rick, I'm sure it will all come back to her," he heard Mr. Beckett say, but he didn't have the heart nor the energy to turn around and reply. Instead his legs carried him away; past the staircase, through the revolving doors, out into the Manhattan air.

He had no idea where he was going, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Every now and then, he would bump into another pedestrian. He would hear how they started to yell at him, "move out of the way," but then they would recognize him; "hey, aren't you that novelists who killed a bunch of KBGs? How cool man," which earned him a pat on the back.

He'd shrug it off, smile politely like he was used to do, and he'd head on. It was only when the colors of brownstone and concrete made way for green and soft pink, that he realized he had walked into a small park. There was the sound of children playing on the playground, some birds bickering over leftover fries.

He was headed for a bench, when a familiar voice spoke.

"Sit next to me," he heard. Not needing to turn around to know who it was, he followed the man. He wasn't surprised; he knew he would come. From the moment she had woken up, and hadn't recognized him, he knew his father would show his face again.

"How is she?" Hunt asked.

"She seems fine, besides the fact that she has no memory of ever having met me," he said, attempting to contain his frustration, but failing.

"I was afraid that might happen," he replied.

"You knew this would happen?" his voice raised. A few pigeons flew away.

"I had my suspicions. There's a reason he gave us so much time, son."

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have saved her sooner." _I could have saved her sooner_ , his inner voice added.

"No we couldn't. You know that. I didn't tell you because all that matters is that she is alive, and she is safe."

"So, what? I just have to accept that she doesn't remember me and move on?"

"You wanted her back, didn't you? I told you I would, I never specified in what state."

Castle got up, unable to listen to this any longer.

"Richard, please sit down," he said. Castle looked around. The children in the playground were having a row; their nannies chatting away loudly, barely glancing at the children they were paid to watch. Finally, he decided to return to the bench.

"I truly am sorry that she doesn't remember you, but maybe it's for the best. I told you only half of his horrible practices; trust me, you do not want to know what he was capable of. Sometimes it is better not to know these types of things."

"So you're saying she's better off like this?"

"I'm saying you should praise yourself lucky that she is here now, and she is healthy. And have patience, who knows. Maybe she does regain some memories." He looked at his watch.

"I gotta go, son." He got up, but Castle wasn't done.

"You said the CIA was able to rescue some of his victims." Hunt turned his head, he seemed… hesitant.

"What happened to them? Where are they now?" He needed answers. If Beckett wasn't the first, maybe her predecessors were the key.

Hunt moved closer again.

"Listen, son. The ones they were able to save were brainwashed and killed their bosses. Some of them are locked away, far away, and if they'd get the chance, they'd go on and murder everyone on the list of people Volkov persuaded them to kill."

"What about the others?" Castle pushed further.

"I don't k-"

"You don't know? So, there might be people that survived it, that turned normal?"

"Turned normal," he scoffed. "Richard, they aren't zombies. They aren't people that can just be turned."

"Volkov did. He did something so gruesome that made them want to murder their own people. Didn't you do that too? Didn't you push his daughter to the brink of insanity, made her murder her own fiancé?"

"Listen to me, Richard. What we- what I did to his daughter was completely different," he couldn't believe his own father. It was one thing to commit a crime, but it was another thing to minimize its cruelty.

"How so? You destroyed her life, seems pretty similar to me?" Castle spat, not knowing what to make of his father, the spy. He seemed like a puppet, almost as bad as Volkov himself.

"Richard, I don't need you to understand why I do the things I do. Doing what I do isn't always as black and white as your books make it out to be," Castle rolled his eyes at that.

"What happened to Ana… we tortured her; we broke her to the point that she didn't know left from right. When we released her, her fiancé found her. She was so far gone by that point that she would have killed anyone that triggered her the wrong way.

What Volkov did, however? When the CIA rescued his victims, they were traumatized but seemed like themselves. The CIA thought that all they needed was some good therapy. So, for a month, everything seemed fine. They went to therapy every day, went home at night. And then one day, they woke up and killed five of their superiors in their own homes, as if they hadn't just killed some of the highest-ranking agents in the special service. We interrogated them for months, but they never budged. They denied their own crimes, while we had them on tape killing them in cold blood."

"So, how do you explain Beckett?" Castle eventually asked, letting the words sink in.

Hunt glimpsed at his watch again.

"To be honest, son, I don't know. None of his previous victims experienced memory loss. The whole point of it was for them to remember the gruels they underwent. So, as I said; maybe it's better for everyone that she doesn't. Now, I really have to go," he smiled apologetically.

"Right, duty calls," Castle murmured, as his father walked away. He remained on the bench for a while, his father's words circling through his brain. Maybe it was for the best? Maybe his father was right and he should praise himself lucky. He wanted her back, didn't he? Castle got up and let out of a grunt of frustration. Two nannies looked up, and gave him a look.

After their talk, Castle decided to go to the precinct. Not like there was anything for him to do there; Beckett's case was closed. They found the ones responsible and they were dead. Captain Gates had wondered who the man in the sketch was, but since so many of Castle's theories had been right, Sorenson had stood by Castle and convinced Gates that the old woman must have made the whole thing up.

Nonetheless, he'd rather go there. He had already told Alexis and his mother about Beckett, and he wasn't in the mood to be coddled first thing when he got home. He was sure the precinct would have heard too, by now. But with any luck, they would be too busy to pay any attention to him.

He knew Ryan wouldn't be there, still recovering from his wound. They expected him to come in next week though, already claiming to be bored on sick leave; not able to understand how Beckett had survived the summer after she'd been shot.

It had already gone dark by the time Castle finally made it to the precinct; Esposito was at his desk, doing paperwork, trying to explain what had gone down in the hangar. The television was on in the corner, the news reporting the same images they had for the last four days. It was a shaky shot of the hangar, spotlights on the door when Esposito and Sorenson came out carrying an unconscious Ryan, followed by Castle with Beckett in his arms.

Then the shot panned to the reporter on site, who tried to explain what they expected to have happened; not yet having received the full report from the police. The image was replaced by the network's studio where two news reporters gave more details about Beckett's kidnapping and rescue. It was followed by images of Volkov, other war victims that had gone insane at his hands. And as every other day, the report ended with a "we wish Detectives Beckett and Ryan a quick and safe recovery," after which they turned to other news. The TV went blank.

"You still watching that crap?" Esposito asked, having turned off the TV.

"You were there, why do you need to listen to the watered-down Hollywood version?" he added, as he shoved Ryan's chair Castle's way. Castle declined, however, not knowing what it is that he wanted.

"They don't know," he said eventually, still staring at the darkened TV monitor. _They don't know she doesn't remember me._ His eyes trailed over the murder board which hadn't been touched since the raid. Esposito followed his gaze: "We're still going to take that down. It was just easier for the report, but if you want we can do it now?"

Without response Castle moved towards the white board. He started pulling down the various pictures, wiping down the evidence. Esposito accepted the photos Castle handed him; the only one remaining was Beckett's. Castle stared at it for a while, unable to touch it. the picture had been his lifeline throughout these three weeks; seeing her face every day brought him a sliver of hope. A purpose which to fight for.

"How is she?" Esposito dared after a while, breaking the silence that came with the hour of day.

"Same as when I left her. Her father texted me. I don't get it, Javi. I would get it if she were to have forgotten the last four years, but she hasn't. She remembers every single case we've worked on in detail. The only one missing is me. It's like someone erased me from her brain," Castle took down Beckett's picture. Unable to look at it any longer. He placed it in the evidence box after which he closed the lit. If only he could put a close on the case that easily.

There was no investigating left to do; all clues of the puzzle had been discovered, yet, they were still dealing with the ramifications. He felt selfish. Just a week earlier, he had given everything to have her back in his life, healthy and safe. And now, that he had her back, he didn't know what to do, didn't know what he should say to her, not knowing whether he should be around her like he normally was, or start all over.

They had come so close; they had finally taken the next step in their relationship when all of this happened. First Madi; then Tyson screwing with her memory of that night. It had been a blow to know Beckett hadn't remembered their first night together. But knowing now where the case would progress, he would give anything to have that version of Beckett back. This one seemed ten times worse.

"Do you think it's something that Volkov did to her? Remember what Sorenson said? He was notorious for psychological torture. I read up on the guy; the things Interpol send me… they were freaky man."

"Do you still have those files?" While his father had said that they hadn't been able to break the psychological hold Volkov had over his victims, maybe somewhere in those files, there would be a detail they had missed. Some way to make her remember, some way to get _his_ Kate back.

"Let me just look them up real quick," Esposito said, returning to his desk. After a minute or so, the printer sprung to life.

"There you go; now go home. No point in you being here," Esposito dismissed Castle, returning to the file he had been working on.

Castle folded the bundle of papers, and as he was headed out, he heard Gates behind him.

"Mister Castle?" her head bopped out of her office, "could we have a word?"

"Sure," he exchanged looks with Esposito, who quickly returned his head to his monitor, pretending to work.

She remained in the door frame while Castle passed her to get into her office. Once inside, she closed the door behind him and gestured him to sit down, while she did the same.

"How are you holding up?" she asked eventually.

"Great, she's back so uh…"

"Great?" she suggested.

"Yeah, that's the word." Castle felt like he was back in high school in the principal's office. Those times when they hadn't caught him red-handed but knew Castle had somehow been involved in the mischief of that week; they just didn't know how yet.

"I know it's late, but since everything that has happened, I thought I would allow you some space,"

"Which I highly appreciate," Castle interjected, trying to remain in her good graces.

"But I would like to know your side of the story," she said, ignoring Castle's comment.

"My side?"

"Yes, your side, Mr. Castle. While Detective Esposito told me what happened, everyone experiences such events differently, and now I want to know your side."

"I'm not sure what there is to add? We went to the hangar; like the plan we'd come up with, I entered through the sewer system. We hoped that they would capture me; kind of like a Trojan horse. I would be the distra-"

"I know the concept of a Trojan horse, Mr. Castle. You say 'we'. Detective Esposito said you were the one who came up with the plan? In fact, from what he told me, it seemed like it was you who found the location where they kept Beckett, and it was you who had a map of the place, and explosives?"

"Um, yeah…" was all he seemed to manage to say. While he was paid to make up stories for a living, his talent seemed to fall short when needed.

"I know there is someone you're covering for, Mister Castle. I am also willing to bet that whoever that person is, was the one who brought Beckett into all of this in the first place. How else would you explain that a KGB officer would take hold of my Detective? I went through every case file of hers; there is not one possible explanation that could tie Detective Beckett to Volkov."

Better than to sin by silence, Castle was about to speak when Gates continued.

"I do not care for their identity, Mister Castle. As far as I'm concerned, this person of yours is old news. What I want to know from you is whether my apprehension is correct. I want to know that they are gone for good, and my team is safe again."

Castle was surprised; he had known Gates was good at her job, her title for one stating so. Still, he had always seen her more as a bureaucratic, stern moral figure, there to keep her detectives in check. He didn't expect her to actually conduct investigations on her own, or question the narratives that passed her review.

"It is a fairly simple question, Mister Castle. A simple yes would do," she said, ready to dismiss him.

"Yes," he replied.

"Very well, good night then, Mister Castle."

She placed her glasses back on her nose, and started scanning some of the forms in front of her.

"Goodnight, Sir."


	15. Part III: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: When Castle was created, I was just starting to learn English as my fourth language. I would not have been adequate enough to run an entire show in English. In conclusion, I'm merely borrowing these fantastic characters.

Everything ached. It was like her body had been run through a mill, she hadn't slept for a million years, and her brain had been prodded by a thousand tiny ants at once. She tried to open her eyes, but it was like they were stapled shut. Vague non-coherent memories; what was Richard Castle doing in her dreams? Mom? A man from Up?

She moved again, her eyes opening this time. The room was dark, except for some light that made it through the blinds. Sound softly reached her ears, a constant beep. Some footsteps outside. She was in a hospital, she figured.

As she tried to get up, a sharp sting pulled at her side; her ribs. They must be fractured, she thought. Not unfamiliar with the feeling nor the injury. As she placed herself more upright, the door of the room opened. A male nurse.

"Miss Beckett, you're awake. I'll page your doctor right away," he said as he pushed some buttons next to her bed, and checked her IV.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, her voice barely audible. It hurt to speak.

"You've been here for five days, but you woke up yesterday. You've been having a lot of visitors," he pointed to a bunch of flowers on her bedside table. Right; she remembered that, vaguely. Her dad had been there. Will? What was he doing there? And then somehow Richard Castle. She wasn't too sure about that last one; probably a dream.

"Miss Beckett?" two doctors entered the room. The nurse opened the blinds, letting the light in. From what she could see, the sky was turning a bright orange; morning.

"I'm Dr. Wise, Head of Trauma, and this is Dr. Shepherd, from Neurology, we haven't had the chance to meet yet," Kate greeted them both; the fog in her mind slowly lifting.

* * *

Two hours had passed since she had woken up. Soon after her doctors had come in to give her a report on her physical wellbeing, Captain Gates had come by to give her details on her kidnapping. Beckett had been tired; every question draining, guilt-inducing. She knew how frustratingly uncooperative her statements were; Gates kept reassuring her that it was completely fine for her to not remember. That she had gone through a trauma, that the bad guys had been caught and killed. Gates had shown their faces, but none of them rang a bell. She had asked whether Beckett might have an idea, a suggestion as to what they would want with her; but also there, her mind was blank. Kate had tried to push through the tiredness, the heaviness of her eyes closing; but, next thing she knew, she woke up to an empty room, Captain Gates long gone.

She sighed, somewhat frustrated with herself. While her doctors and Gates had explained her everything there was to know, she felt like she knew nothing at all. She craved some normalcy, she craved to not fall asleep every freaking second, she craved to remember; I can take it, she thought, how bad can it really be? But then she looked at her wrists, her ankles. The painful jab in her ribs, every time she moved.

There was a knock on the door. Dr. Burke's head appeared.

"Hey," Kate said, glad to see a familiar face. Hopeful that he might provide her with the answers she needed.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice low and comforting. He took a chair by the window, diving straight into their session.

"I'm okay," she said, to which Burke gave her a look. She had spilled enough of herself in the past year for him to know when she was bullshitting.

"Okay, fine. I'm not. I'm frustrated."

"Why is that?"

"You know why," her voice sharper than intended.

"I know what happened to you from the news and the police report; the doctors have told me that you have trouble remembering. Is that what bothers you?"

"Yes, I-"

"Kate, don't be too hard on yourself. You went through a terrible trauma; remember what I explained to you in our first session after your shooting? Our brains are incredibly intellectual organs, with mechanisms that are there to serve you. When a traumatic event occurs, it sometimes willingly forgets in order to protect you."

"Yeah, I know, repressed memories," she replied.

"Exactly. Now if you want, I can aid you to retrieve some of them if possible. Could you start by telling me what you do remember?"

* * *

Castle was annoyed to say the least. The hospital had let him know that Beckett was awake again, four hours ago; but instead of being allowed to go down there, he was now sitting behind his computer writing what felt like the crappiest writing he had done in a long time. Gina had been furious with him; it was almost September, and he still hadn't finished his latest Nikki Heat novel.

"Rick, I know you've been through a lot these past few weeks, but she is back. You don't give me those last chapters by the end of this week, and we will drop you."

"You wouldn't," he had retorted.

"Just watch me," she had narrowed her eyes, "oh, by the way. I asked Martha to keep an eye on you, she'll be reporting to me when you just so much as move from your seat; even if it's only to go to the bathroom."

"You didn't," but knowing his ex-wife and publisher, she most likely did.

So, there he had been sitting, writing down every word that entered his brain, while he could be seeing her.

_She_

_Doesn't_

_Remember_

_Me._

Delete that; Nikki Heat did remember Jameson Rook, because in my books, he thought angrily, my characters end up unscathed and happy in the end. His fingers furiously tapped on the keyboard, the letters shaking, as if scared of the brutal force with which he deleted the last page.

"Dad? Is everything alright?" Alexis was standing before him, her eyes worried.

"I'm alright, sorry pumpkin," he smiled apologetically.

"Are you sure, that letter N doesn't seem too happy," she eyed the letter that had come loose and was now hanging on to a mere thread.

"Right, I've been writing a lot of Nikki so," o, hell, why was he even trying. It was his daughter. She always knew exactly what was up with him, he could never hide from her piercing blue eyes.

"What are those?" she instead replaced her focus to the pages on Volkov.

"His victims. I thought that by going through them, I might find a way to help Beckett, make her remember somehow."

"And did you?"

"No, what he did to them was… I could never write such gruesome scenes; wouldn't want to inspire anyone," Alexis placed a hand on his hand.

"I'm sure she'll remember you, dad. I mean, how could she not. You've been annoying her for the past four years? Maybe she's just overwhelmed. She was gone for almost a month; that's a long time. Remember with her shooting, didn't she forget too at first?"

He smiled. He loved his daughter; her big heart. What had he ever done to deserve her.

"Thank you sweetie, I appreciate what you're trying to do but this is different," he halted, unsure whether he wanted to bring his daughter into this darker side of society he wished to shelter her from for the rest of her life. But then he looked at her, really looked at her.

"When did you become such an adult," he said mindlessly. She chuckled at that.

"To take care of you, remember? Who else was gonna do it, grams?"

"I heard that," Martha walked into the office.

"What's up kiddo?" playfully poking her granddaughter. They both looked at him expectantly. He hadn't told them about his father; he didn't know whether he should. He didn't know what good it would do to them if he wasn't even sure how he felt about the whole my-father-is-a-spy thing himself.

"I don't know what I should do, mother," he went with instead; it seemed like a much easier discussion than "I have met the man who gave you a child".

"How about that lovely movie we saw with Channing Tatum?" Castle frowned. What did Channing Tatum have to do with any of it?

"Seriously, mother? I'm not really in the mood for a movie if that's what you're su-"

"Grams, you're right! Don't you remember dad. The one where Rachel McAdams wakes up and doesn't remember her own husband?" regretfully he remembered. His mother and Alexis had dragged him to go see it back in February; he had been the only man there.

"Right, but that's fiction, sweetie."

"Actually not really; it was based on true events," Alexis not giving up just yet.

"Even if that's the case, her memory loss was due to a car accident. The doctors have done all possible tests on Beckett, but to no cause. There were no hidden aneurysms, no hidden bumps or bruises, nothing that could explain her memory loss. And even if their cases were similar, at the end of the movie, McAdams still didn't remember her husband," his voice trailed off; Alexis wasn't listening anymore.

"What about psychological trauma, then? We learned in bio class that when people go through traumatic events, they sometimes forget. But those memories aren't really gone; they are simply repressed, which means that you can unlock them. You should go to the hospital, daddy. Make her see who you are, take your books with you," she screamed enthusiastically. Castle grinned at her innocent joy, but then he sighed audibly.

"If only mother didn't need to guard me from removing my bottom from this chair," he said dramatically, batting his eyes at his mother.

"It's your life kiddo. Just don't come crying to me when Gina kills you."

That's all the approval he needed. He closed his computer without saving, because who was he kidding, what he had written was utter bullshit. He grabbed the _Nikki Heat_ series from the shelf and headed over to the hospital.

* * *

Castle was one bundle of nerves when he made it to Beckett's floor; like a teenager taking out his first ever girlfriend on a date. Before heading out, he had looked himself over in the mirror, sprayed on some of his cologne, just to be sure. He felt stupid really. Beckett will like you without all of that; but not really, another demon whispered.

Four years it had taken him to win her over. At least he didn't need to deal with the more reserved version of Beckett; the one he met at first, who – lovely as she was back then – had been miles away from ever considering him as a potential partner. Still, making her fall in love – had she been in love? – with him… wasn't going to be the easiest undertaking.

With his daughter's words ringing in his ears, he mustered up all the courage he could find, ready to knock on Beckett's door when he heard her laughter. His body filled with warmth; almost painfully – like an addict taking his first hit again after a month of ruthless sobriety. The door was ajar; he softly pushed it open, the sunlight momentarily blinding him. Next he heard was _his_ voice accompanying hers. His euphoria was over before it began; enter the crash.

Castle blinked, his eyes adjusting to the room. He took a step forward, produced a smile to cover up the hurt of the knife that was stabbing him repeatedly. Sorenson was sitting next to her bedside; both were eating donuts with little sprinkles on top of them.

"Hey," Beckett gave him a gentle smile. She had been told by now that they used to know each other well. But other than that, he was nothing more to her than the man from a book jacket she used to love.

While Castle appreciated Beckett for trying, it wasn't the same. He had grown accustomed to the smile she had been giving him more and more often lately. The one she only reserved for him; the one he received every day for handing her a fresh cup of coffee. This one, however, was the one she would use when talking to victim's families. A smile full of pity.

Getting over himself, Castle straightened up.

"What are you guys laughing over?"

"Will was just telling me about little Angela's case where you guys met. Apparently to stop you two from bickering I told you to just drop your pants and get it over with," she started laughing again.

"To which you said-"

"I'm game. Yeah, I remember," Castle said, more serious than he had intended. Both stopped laughing. _Buzzkill_. Sorenson got up, understanding he'd better leave them the room.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he squeezed her hand.

"Thanks for the donut," she said as she took another bite.

"Anytime, Kate," he said. He gave Castle a last hesitant look before he left. And with his departure, so did the atmosphere.

They were both silent for a while, unsure who should go first, and what they should say if they'd get their turn. Eventually, neither seemed to be able to remain quiet so they went at the same time.

"I'm s-"

"I'm sorry," they looked at each other, a little perplexed.

"You go," Castle eventually said, being a gentleman as always.

"No, please. You go. I- I wouldn't know what to say really other than the fact that I am sorry," she gave him that same smile again. Pity.

"No, it- it's okay, really. It isn't your fault," he said, trying to keep her brows from furrowing into more pity.

More silence.

"So um, tell me. How did we meet?" she attempted after a while. Castle averted his eyes, confronted yet again with the fact that she didn't remember any of it.

"Sorry, if it's too difficult, I'd understand," she said, "some things are easier kept inside." It hurt him that she still thought like that. How different their lives would have been if she had learned to share, and not carry the worries of the entire world on her shoulders.

"No, don't worry. It just overtook me for a second. I'd be happy to tell you." And off he went. He started explaining how he had been at the book release of his last Derrick Storm novel, to which she replied that she couldn't believe he had killed him off, which he was delighted to hear. He described to her how she had barged into his party unannounced, flashed her badge at him and changed his life forever.

Her jaw dropped when she discovered he had already written four books based on her. While she remembered all the Derrick Storm novels, and details from various cases they'd worked on together, she had no recollection of Nikki Heat or Castle being present in her life.

"This is… extraordinary, Castle," she said, in awe as her fingers travelled over the letters Heat Wave. She opened the novel, her eyes falling on the dedication.

 _To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12_ _th_ _._

She was speechless. Her favorite author had written four books based on _her_ , and this dedication… it was the cherry on top. She felt his gaze on her as she was still staring at the page. Heat rose to her cheeks; when she finally dared to look up, he quickly averted his eyes.

"Katie," her father entered the room, to which Castle quickly got up.

"Rick," he greeted him; they know each other well, Beckett noted as she observed their interaction.

"Mr. Beckett, how's the law treating you?"

"Can't complain, Rick. Are you staying?" Castle hesitated.

"Ah, no," he checked his watch, "it's almost dinner time. Got to feed the daughter; although really, odds are she'll be feeding me," he quipped.

"You have a daughter?" both men turned around. Castle somewhat surprised; at the same time awfully pleased with her shown interest.

"Yeah, she just started college," his voice bittersweet mixed with pride.

"If you want, I'll bring her with me next time. She's rather fond of you," he gave her an encouraging smile. She seemed a little lost in thought, then she shook it off, looked up again and said: "That would be nice."

"Mr. Beckett, Kate," he bade them farewell.

"Wait. Could you bring the book with you tomorrow? I'd love to know more about them."

How adorable; she sought his permission to read her own books.

"Keep it, they're yours."

She smiled. No pity, he noted. A small victory.


	16. Part III: Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed since Beckett had woken up in the hospital. While her vitals were back to normal, the hospital had insisted on her staying at least the full two weeks; that would allow her to be monitored when her bones healed. But in reality, Beckett knew they kept her around to monitor her mental wellbeing.

She had a daily session with Doctor Burke. To her, they seemed completely futile because she had nothing to process. While she knew she had undergone major trauma, evidenced by her scrapes and broken ribs, she felt completely fine. She still had the same issues concerning her mother's case, still had lingering PSTD from when she was shot in the chest. But the month she had been unaccounted for, was one big gap.

The biggest gap of all was that of Richard Castle, or just "Castle," like she apparently called him. He had come in every day telling her anecdotes of the various cases they'd worked on together. It was absurd in the beginning; having her favorite author visiting her, having a rapport with him that made her suspect they had been more than friendly with one another.

Even more strange was to read books that were based on her, based on cases she recognized. The first week after she woke, Castle had read her some chapters. She had still been too tired most of the time to read for longer periods of time. Having regained most of her energy now, she was able to read on her own; updating him every time he walked in, questioning him on the latest development.

She was on the last book; she had a few more chapters to go, but knowing that it was based on the period right before Montgomery had died, she wasn't too sure she wanted to read on just yet.

"Hey, sweetie. Can I come in?" Lanie's head popped through the door.

Beckett lowered _Heat Rises,_ grimacing as her ribs protested when she sat up straighter.

"Nice flowers," she commented, pulling up a chair next to Kate's bed.

"Yeah, Castle brought them yesterday," Lanie smiled at that.

"So, how have you been. Any changes?" Kate must have heard these words a hundred times since she had awoken. Every time, she would see hope appear on the person's face, before she had to let them down that no, nothing had changed.

"How's Kevin, and the rest?" While Castle had been there every day, they never really talked about current events. It seemed like his agenda was to get her to remember as quickly as possible, so they rather dove into their past together or his books, more than anything else.

"Everyone's good, Kevin's been back for a week," Lanie then went on to tell her about the latest murder they'd caught. Some woman had been found in a giant claw machine, after which the one who reported the murder ended up being the murderer.

"We miss you," she concluded.

"Oh, god, me too," Kate grunted with a sigh.

"I'm going mad over here, Lanie. It's even worse than last summer. At least then I had something to work through. Now I'm just treated like a basket case by everyone, for a reason I can't even remember."

"At least you have Castle by your side this time?" Lanie tried, seeing Kate blush at the mentioning of his name.

"Yeah, about that…" Kate said hesitantly.

"What about him?" Lanie could barely contain her glee. If she would have known that Kate's memory loss was what she needed for her to finally give into her feelings for Castle, Lanie would have taken care of it years ago.

"No, it's- it's probably nothing," she said dismissively.

"Nuh-uh, it's not nothing, honey. Now spill, what have you got on your mind?"

Beckett remained quiet for a minute, like a stubborn child who didn't want to tell her mother that she had taken a cookie out of the jar without permission. Eventually she got over herself.

"It's just… what were we to one another, Lanie? Before all of this," she glared at her surroundings.

"What do you mean?" Lanie played dumb, wanting to hear Beckett's thoughts out loud.

"I- it's just, the way he looks at me sometimes when he thinks I don't notice."

"Uhu," Lanie said encouragingly.

"Sometimes I get the impression that there might have been something more going on. I mean, take his books for example. I recognize every case, Lanie. I even remember saying some of those lines. I don't dare to ask him, because if it is the case- God, Lanie, if we were together, how horrible am I then? To not remember any of it?"

"Relax, honey. Breathe," Lanie placed a hand on her friend's shoulder to calm her down. While Lanie had started the conversation to have some fun, to tease her best friend, she hadn't expected for worry and real emotions to surface.

"Were we…," she seemed to have trouble to finish her sentence. As much fun as it would be to tease her more, Lanie decided to call it quits and be honest.

"As far as I know, and from what you've told me, no," at that, Kate sighed in relief.

"So the books, it's all just his imagination?" Kate asked, and Lanie noted the sadness behind Kate's eyes. While she seemed relieved to know she couldn't disappoint him by forgetting a whole relationship, it seemed to bother her just as much that there wasn't anything going on at all.

"It better just be his imagination, otherwise I'd have a bone to pick with you," she tried to joke, but she saw Kate was still worried.

"If it really upsets you this much, you can always just ask?"

"No, it- it's silly really".

Lanie wanted more than anything to tell her how close they had come to being together, but since Castle clearly hadn't said anything about it, it didn't seem like it was her place to bud in.

Instead, she started to tell Kate more about the cases she had missed, how solving murders was no fun without her. Meanwhile, Kate was only half paying attention. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something between her and Castle that people were deliberately not telling her; maybe to spare her feelings? She had even asked her dad after he had had to draw her back to the conversation for the third time in ten minutes; clearly not listening to one of his law cases.

"What's up, Katie? Is it coming back to you?" he had asked worriedly.

"No, dad. I'm fine. Still don't remember," faking a smile to cover up the guilt she felt.

"Then what's wrong; I know this case isn't the most challenging one, but usually, you tend to listen to them?"

"Oh, no, dad. It's not you. I'm sure it's a very interesting case, and I love to listen to them. It's just… It's him," she started picking on the rim of the scratchy hospital blanket.

"Him? Ah, you mean Rick?" god, why did her cheeks redden at every mention of him; it was like she was back to being a teenager when her dad asked her if there was something more going on between her and that boy she kept talking about.

"Yes, god. Dad, please tell me I'm not going mad," to which he had chuckled:

"Katie, I'm sure that whatever it is, you're not mad just yet. So, tell me; what is it this time?"

"I don't know," she sighed, looking out the window to win some time to find the correct way to formulate the thoughts that kept her up at night.

"Kate?" he said after a while.

"Dad, you aren't keeping anything from me, right? Because it feels like everyone knows something that I don't. I mean, I know I was gone for almost a month, and I understand it was scary; so, I don't blame you for treating me like china. But… it seems that when it comes to Rick, every time someone mentions him, the rest exchanges glances as if there is more going on."

Jim started to laugh; he was so extremely grateful to have his daughter back in his life; while he had been worried for days on how she would deal with her latest trauma, there she sat; worried about a boy.

"Dad it's not funny. I-"

"Oh, Katie, let an old man laugh over his daughter from time to time. At least grant me that."

Kate smiled too, understanding that her dad needed this. She honestly didn't understand how after all she had put him through, all the worrying, all the hospital visits, all the terrorists, gang leaders and serial killers, he hadn't died from an ulcer already.

Her dad wiped away a tear that had formed from all the laughing, readjusted himself before he stroked her hair and said:

"No, Kate. We aren't hiding anything from you. What is it that you think we haven't told you?"

"It's seems common knowledge that Ri- Castle and I were- are good friends. And from reading his books, I can tell he thinks pretty highly of me. I just wonder, with Nikki and Jameson being a thing and all, whether…"

"Something similar has happened between the two of you?" He helped her out. When he didn't answer quickly enough, Kate said:

"So? Did something happen?"

"To be completely honest with you, Kate. I have no idea. It's not like you tell me much about your dating life in general," he gave her an accusing look, but seeing as she hadn't caught the joke, he quickly added, "not that I mind. I prefer it this way to be honest. The less I know, the better if you ask me. I know you were with that Doctor for a while, then after you got shot; you told me you had stopped seeing him. Other than that?"

"But what do _you_ think?" always the interrogator, not giving up until she had the full story.

"I know you liked him a whole lot; you always went on and on about him. Same goes for him; the fact that you're wondering whether there was something going on… The man radiates whenever he's near you, Kate. As for the fact whether there was something going on? If there was, you have yet to tell me," he smiled, after which he left, visitor hour being over.

They had agreed for the same time tomorrow, he had given her a kiss on the head, and she was back to being alone, in her hospital bed with nothing else to do but go over the last four years of her life, hoping that somehow, she'd remember something, anything.

* * *

Another week went by with no change. Her visitors kept dropping in as much as possible, and finally she was released from the hospital after her complaining for the umpteenth time that she was perfectly fine; that is wasn't necessary to keep someone in her condition in a hospital for longer than twenty-three days. Besides, she had said, maybe she would regain her memories when she actually went out in the world; when she would actually be able to go to work, she had added under her breath.

After having taken a shower at home, Beckett had gone straight to the shooting range to requalify before she headed to the precinct. Having gone to therapy every day, they had given her the psychological all clear as well. While Beckett kept convincing everyone that she was fine, she knew that she wasn't really. Something was nagging at the back of her brain. As if not all her thoughts were her own, as if someone had been playing around in her brain, playing with her memories, her thoughts.

She hadn't told anyone about that, not even her therapist. It seemed like all everyone wanted to know was whether she remembered, which she didn't. They didn't want to know about the voices she heard at night, the voices of a man infiltrating her dreams; she kept telling herself.

Some days, she felt like she was going mad. Other days, she was half convinced that she had already gone mad and everyone around her was just being nice; going along with her fantasy just to not upset her.

"Kate?" she heard, awakening from yet another daydream. She seemed to have them a lot lately. Ever since waking up in the hospital it seemed.

She was in front of the 12th precinct. She had arrived a few minutes ago, she suspected. But then she had seen some officers she recognized, and off her mind went.

"Kate?" she heard again, Castle's face appearing before her.

"Hey, Castle," she smiled. "I uh was-"

"It's okay. You don't need to tell me. How are your ribs?"

"Still painful, how about your shoulder?" he had told her about their raid into Tyson's supposed lair, how he had dislocated his shoulder in the process. She still couldn't believe that thanks to the color of her shirt, Castle had been able to come to a breakthrough.

In the first week that Castle came to visit her in the hospital, she was still getting to know him. While he came across as both kind and charming, he was often childish too, which made her question how she would have been able to put up with that for four years as a partner. But as she started reading his books, and he started going over their cases, it had become clear that he was more intelligent and astute than he gave himself credit for.

"Can't complain," he shrugged. He looked at the precinct, then back at her.

"So, were you planning on going in today?"

"Hm, don't know yet; I like it here, always admired the view," she said only half joking, because in fact she had. She loved the way her precinct looked, how it smelled; to her, it was home.

"Oh I know you do, but I think it's even better on the inside. Plus, since you don't remember me, I'm sure there's something else I can surprise you with."

* * *

"O my god, Castle. This is the best coffee I have ever tasted. How'd you do that?" she asked, completely blown away by the coffee machine he had bought in his first year at the precinct. They were in the break room, people glancing at them every once in a while. When she had entered the homicide floor, people had stood up to clap and welcome her back.

After a short speech, and a welcome back from Captain Gates, Castle had pulled her towards the break room. Having cracked his head over the enigma that was Beckett's memory loss, he had guessed that since she remembered all the cases him excluded, she had no recollection of any detail that was in some way or form connected to him; hence, the coffee machine.

"There's a special ingredient."

"Really, what is it?" she narrowed her eyes challenging.

"Now, if I told you that, you might not need me anymore," he said jokingly.

"Then don't tell me," she replied seriously, her fingers skimming the side of her mug. Castle allowed himself to look at her longer than he normally would; noticing that she didn't try to look away. A blush subtly colored her cheeks. The temperature in the room went up by one hundred; his heart beating faster with every breath he forced himself to take.

He was about to say something when Ryan's head appeared in the door.

"Beckett, Castle, the- sorry, am I interrupting something?" he asked noticing they both glanced away quickly at the sound of his voice.

"No, everything's fine. What's up?" Detective Beckett had appeared. Even now, Ryan and Esposito still seemed to have a knack for interrupting at the worst possible time ever.

"The case we're working on, we have the location of a possible suspect. We're just going to do a little stake out, won't be too long. Thought you might want to join since you're back?"

"What do you say, Castle? Ready to show me what you're like in the field?" she had already turned around to follow Ryan, while Castle stayed behind, flabbergasted. Had she just flirted with him openly? After, well, knowing him for a mere three weeks?

"What's the matter? Scared you'll shoot to soon?" she added coyly.

"Detective Beckett, you will be the death of me," he shook his head while he followed her towards the elevator.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time they made their way over to a neighborhood in Queens. The guys had gone in Esposito's car, Ryan still with his arm in a sling, while Castle had gone with Beckett in her Crown Vic.

Castle who was still recovering from their little interaction at the precinct, sat next to her in silence while she drove.

"What, no questions, no teasing? I thought you would be more annoying," she joked. She had no idea where this side of her was coming from, especially since she didn't know him that long; well, in all fairness, she had at one point. Maybe her subconscious remembered, and that's why she felt so comfortable and easy around him.

Her request sounded like music to his ears; chatting away for the remainder of the drive. He pulled out all his tricks, switching the channel every five seconds, making suggestive jokes when the occasion arose.

Before long, he had her begging him to stop; his little actions starting to drive her crazy.

They came to a halt near the building where their suspect was spotted about an hour ago. Esposito and Ryan were a few cars down, at the other side of the street.

"What do you think they're talking about," Esposito asked.

"I don't know, the usual? Did you see them in the break room earlier?"

"Yeah, man, just like old times. I bet you that before the day's done, Castle will make a move. With Beckett's memory gone and all, now seems like the perfect time. No excuses for it being complicated."

"You really think that?" Ryan unconvinced, "I'd say it's even more complicated than usual. Plus, you know Beckett. I love her but she is difficult to open up. It took them what, four years to get to a point where they seemed almost ready for something more? Nah, if you ask me, the memory loss set them back to their first year."

"Really? That far back?"

"Remember how much she despised him when they first met? She only started to tolerate him after a year; I don't think these three weeks can do what needed four years last time."

"So you really sticking to that huh? How about we make things interesting. Let's say 50 that Castle will make a move before week's end."

"Sure, it's your money man. Throw it away if you like," Ryan chuckled.

"Yo, Beckett," Esposito said through the radio.

"Do you see something?" Ryan asked, looking for any activity in the street.

"Espo? Everything alright?" Beckett responded.

"Yeah, just fine. Me and Ryan were just thinking that the lights are going to turn on any minute now; and once they do, it's gonna hit your car. If our perp looks out the window, he'd see you guys sitting there straight away. Maybe you should get out, go for a stroll. Look less suspicious."

It was silent for a while.

"A stroll, Javi? Really? That's your big plan to win 50 bucks?" Ryan shook his head in disapproval.

"Good call," Beckett eventually responded.

Esposito reclined his seat a bit, placing his arms behind his head.

"Sit back, and enjoy the show, my brother."

* * *

Castle was wondering what the boys were up to; he and Beckett agreed that their position was just fine and the chances were slim that they'd be seen by the suspect. Either way, they didn't see any problem with stretching their legs, so they got out.

Yet again, the conversation had circled back to how Beckett was doing.

"Can we not, Castle," she said with more frustration than she had intended when she closed the door of her car.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. It's just… I like that you and I can discuss other things, you know cases, your books. Normal stuff,"

"You're right, I- what would you like me to talk about? Anything you'd like," he said, while they started to walk away from the boys and Beckett's car.

"Anything?" she asked hesitantly. Castle stopped walking at her tone.

"Yeah, anything. What's up?" a little worried.

"No it's probably stupid," Beckett carried on.

"With you? Never," he responded catching up to her. He allowed her some time to respond, noting the inner struggle that seemed to be happening behind her tough-detective façade. Eventually when she spoke again, her voice was small.

"WhatwereweCastle," she said it so quickly, Castle had almost missed it entirely. Only when the words registered, he stopped walking again. He hadn't expected this question; come to think of it, it would make sense to question what you were with someone who came to visit you every day at the hospital, someone who had written four books based on you where the fictional versions of you were an item.

Still, it had taken him by surprise; the Beckett he had come to known didn't speak out about subjects like this. Instead she wrapped her thoughts in subtexts, meaningful glances, hurt looks when she thought no one was looking.

"See, told you it was stupid," she said dismissively, but before she could walk away again, Castle grabbed her by the arm and turned her around.

"No, it's not stupid at all, Kate," he gave her a cautious smile. They looked at each other for a moment, Castle ruminating over which way to best approach the subject. Beckett had less patience.

"So?" she asked again, her voice strong now.

"Ah… it's complicated, Kate," was the course of action he went with.

"Complicated? Really? Castle, it's a simple question, were we or weren't we?" Detective Beckett had entered the chat. If the conversation hadn't been so serious, he would have burst out in laughter right then and there. Kate Beckett, queen of complicated, not accepting that their relationship might have been "complicated."

"Trust me, it's not that simple. If you'd remember, I'm sure you would agree," he eventually said. That seemed to have hit a nerve.

"Well, clearly I don't," she scolded, turning away again.

"Hey, wait, Kate," he tried, half laughing, half panicked. How was he already screwing it up with her, again. She didn't wait for him, her long legs striding away. He had to quicken his pace to catch up.

"Kate, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having these conversations with you so… bluntly,"

"Oh, pardon my bluntness. Other notes on how I don't measure up to your version of me?"

That caught him off guard, which made her backtrack.

"I- sorry, Castle. It's just… I know I keep saying that I'm fine… Sometimes I think it's better that I don't know what happened to me in that basement, but, on the other hand, it's really difficult to navigate in a world where everyone seems to know something that I don't. Everyone talks about you, about us, as if we have this connection or something; I'm not blind, I can see it too," she left out a sigh, not knowing how to voice the rest of her thoughts.

Castle took a step closer, daring for his hand to softly touch her cheek. She didn't withdraw at his touch, her eyes glancing away though; as if looking at him would be too real.

"Hey, Kate. Look at me," she looked up again, noticing the blue of his eyes; the sincerity in them. She had been scared that when she would bring up the subject, Castle would mock her. Scared that she had been imagining everything in her head. But seeing the way he looked at her right in that moment, she knew that whatever it was that made their relationship so complicated, the way he felt about her wasn't complicated at all.

Before she gave him a chance to speak again, she took a step forward and connected her lips to his. He remained still for a split second, not expecting for her to kiss him. But then he started to respond, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, the other one in her hair. Her body was on fire; the pure electricity that went through her by the sheer touch of his lips against her. And then it all came back to her. Her life with Castle flashed before her:

Their first case; Castle bringing up anomalies in her mother's murder; Castle leaving for the Hamptons with his ex-wife; their first kiss; them getting stuck in a freezer; Castle whispering that he loved her while she was bleeding out to death; them on the swings; Castle pulling away; Beckett dangling on the side of a building; Beckett in front of his door, soaking wet; them making love; Beckett responding to Madi's call; Beckett being taken by 3XK; Beckett in a basement; who is that man, where is that man; Castle; she loves Castle; Castle; where is Castle; Castle wrong; Castle dead: Castle die: Kill Castle.

Her hands moved on their own accord; they wrapped themselves around his throat, closing in on his windpipe. Castle fought for his breath, his hands clawing at hers. But there was no use. She didn't budge, she didn't flinch. Her hands, as if made of steel. Castle had to die.


	17. Part III: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There will be some mentions/details of torture.
> 
> Disclaimer: Andre Marlowe, you're a genius. Thank you.

"Cough up, Ryan," Esposito slapped him on the shoulder, to which Ryan grunted in agony.

"Shit, sorry bro. Forgot about the shoulder. Anyways, 50 bucks," he boasted.

"Actually, it's you who owes me fifty bucks, 'bro'," Ryan said mockingly, rubbing his shoulder to relieve the tension.

"What d'you mean? They're kissing aren't they," shortly glancing at the couple. While he wanted nothing more than for his two friends to get together, actually seeing them was another thing.

"You bet that it would be Castle who'd make a move before week's end; correct me if I'm blind, but what we just witnessed my friend, was Beckett making a move. Not Castle."

"Are you kidding me? It was him who made her turn around. Didn't you see him reaching out for her cheek? If that isn't a move, I don't know what is."

"I don't know what kind of moves you practice on Lanie, Javi. But a cheek-"

"I think something's wrong," Esposito interrupted, glancing back at Beckett and Castle.

"and a kiss, they're tw-"

"Dude, shut up for a sec. Something's seriously wrong," Ryan stopped speaking and looked up. While the couple had just been making out, Beckett's hands were now wrapped around Castle's-

"Crap," they got out of the car at the same time running over to the two. They heard Castle struggling for air, Beckett seemed like a robot; unfazed.

"Hang on Castle," Esposito yelled, damning himself for having suggested them to take a stroll. Ryan fell behind, his shoulder hindering him. Esposito was only feet away; Castle was close to passing out. Esposito jumped the last stretch, and with all his force, tackled Beckett to the ground.

"What's the matter with you," he yelled, as he felt Beckett struggle against him.

"Castle stand back," he yelled, struggling to keep Beckett down who was fighting back.

"Espo, let go," she screamed, her voice sounding foreign; wounded.

Castle was coughing, bent over next to a car. Ryan arrived next to him, his phone against his ear.

* * *

"Lanie, for the last time, I'm fine," Castle tried to push her hand away. They were back at the precinct, when Lanie had ran into the conference room; distraught, a first aid kit in her arms.

Lanie slapped Castle's hand away, as she continued to administer an ointment to the bruising that had started to show.

"Castle, this is serious. If the perp had gone on any longer, it might have caused brain damage, internal bleedings… Where's Beckett, did she get hurt too?" She looked around the homicide floor. They hadn't told anyone what had happened, except for Captain Gates. No idea what to make of the situation, they thought it'd be best to keep it on the down low as much as possible. Instead of placing her in holding, where people could ask questions, Beckett was in an interrogation room; the blinds shut.

"Lanie, it was Beckett," Castle said; her face fell. She slowly placed the cream back on the table, her eyes fixated on the packaging.

"What do you mean, it was Beckett?" her voice sounded unsure. Castle didn't know how to answer her question, when he himself didn't comprehend what had happened. How was he supposed to explain that she had kissed him, and then suddenly, her hands had been on his neck, and all he could see were stars.

"Yo, they're here."

"Javi, Castle, what's going on. Where's Beckett?" Esposito exchanged glances with Castle.

"Just… just come with us," he eventually said, taking them both to observation room 4. When they entered, Ryan and Captain Gates were already there; Captain Gates's arms crossed.

Castle, being the last to enter, closed the door behind him when Lanie yelled out:

"What's wrong with my baby? Why is she in there again? I thought you said you guys were attacked by a witness?" she looked at all of them, in search of an explanation, support. The three boys exchanged uneasy looks, none of them wanting to explain what had just happened.

"It appears," Captain Gates eventually said, "that Detective Beckett was triggered somehow, and tried to kill Mr. Castle." Lanie fell silent.

Castle who hadn't yet dared to look through the glass, finally lifted his eyes. There she was; but at the same time, she wasn't. The woman who was angrily pacing in the interrogation room, her arms and legs cuffed, might share the same features with the Beckett he knew, but apart from that, she was a complete stranger.

She kept looking around frantically, paranoid. The door of the interrogation room opened; she looked up, her features calming. A woman with red hair got seated.

"I thought we called her therapist?" Castle asked, surprised to see Special Agent Jordan Shaw.

"Under the circumstances, I reached out to the FBI. They told me Special Agent Shaw was part of the last investigation into Volkov's victims. It was part of a profile study into psychological torturers," Captain Gates informed them.

"Detective Beckett, remember me?" Shaw's stern voice travelled through the intercom.

Beckett eyed Shaw for a moment, but refrained from answering.

"Care to answer some questions for me?" Shaw continued.

"What does it matter," Beckett scoffed.

"Please, just sit down. You know me. I do not work for the NYPD, nor with Castle," at the mention of his name, Kate burst out: "Where is he? Is he alright?" It was unclear to Castle whether she was upset, or angry.

"He's alright, don't worry. Please, take the seat Detective Beckett," Beckett hesitated, but eventually, she sat down across from Shaw.

"Why are you here then?" Beckett reversed the roles of the interview.

"I'm here for a chat. I was told you've had it pretty rough the last couple of weeks," Beckett snorted at that.

"That's a mild understatement. Where's Castle, I want to talk to him," Beckett moved her head a little to see past Jordan, straight through the one-way mirror, where she believed Castle to be.

"He's behind the glass, isn't he?"

"What was the basement like?" Shaw ignored her.

"It was cold, and bright. What about it? I though they killed them when they saved me."

"She remembers," Castle almost inaudible.

"Who are they? The ones who were killed?" Shaw questioned.

"Well, let's see. There was Volkov, sweet guy. The woman who killed Tyson, hmm… a bunch of other Russian stereotypes. They didn't really introduce themselves. They believed more in action, than words," irony filled the room.

"Did they ever physically hurt you, Kate?"

"Listen, I have a therapist for that. I just want to talk to Castle. Tell him that I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to what, Kate?" Beckett glanced away. When she looked back at Shaw, tears were running down her cheeks.

"I know how it looked. But I'm telling you, it wasn't me."

"Then who was?" Kate evaded Shaw's eyes.

"Kate? Who was it if not you?"

* * *

Kate had refused further questioning; so, they had sent Dr. Burke in. While she resisted to answer any questions related to the assault, she was willing to go over her kidnapping with him. She told him how she never knew whether it was day or night; how a drop of water would fall every three seconds, until one day it suddenly became four; how her arms and legs would scream out in pain; her stomach, surviving on literal breadcrumbs for days at a time…

Castle couldn't stay in the observation room. He couldn't listen to the horrors she'd endured. He couldn't stomach what she had been through, all because of his father. Correction: all because of him.

In the hallway, he bumped into Shaw.

"Richard Castle, we should stop meeting like this," she extended her hand, he responded with a weak smile.

"I saw your big rescue on the news. How is it that an NYPD detective and a New York Times bestselling novelist find themselves in the same news report as Gregor Volkov? Why you two?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Ah, I wouldn't know. Kismet perhaps?" he gave her his most innocent and charming smile, as he walked over to the breakroom.

"Would you like a coffee?" he tried, hoping it would distract her from the interrogation she had sprung on him.

"None for me, thanks," he should have known better. He started working the machine, while her gaze never left him. He could feel the wheels spinning in her brain; the next questions brewing.

"How did you figure out it was about Volkov?"

"The old woman; the do-"

"Yes, the door between the two gardens. I read up on the report. I also noticed that the man you showed on the news was conveniently missing from any report. Like he wasn't even there," the mug Castle had been working with fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

Shaw unaffected, resumed her line of questioning while Castle dropped to the ground, clumsily, apologizing for the mess he had caused.

"What I don't get is if you knew about his involvement that early on, why did it take you so long to find her? Especially since he called you?"

"You know about that?" he got up, quickly checking to see if no one was paying attention to the two of them. The corner of her mouth raised.

"Just a lucky guess. So, what did he tell you?"

_Way to go Rick…_

She looked at him expectantly. When he didn't budge, she continued:

"I know there was someone else with you in that hangar, Castle. While the report mentioned you had an earpiece to communicate with your team, my source tells me it was someone else entirely."

"Sorenson," he gritted his teeth. Castle didn't need to check her face to know he was right.

"I'm even willing to bet that the man in question is the one behind the death of Volkov's daughter."

"You know about that too?"

"I know of it. I know that soon after his daughter killed her fiancé, and she committed suicide, Volkov was caught and locked up. I'm not a writer, so correct me if I'm wrong, but this situation you and Detective Beckett have found yourselves in, seems an awful lot like a pastiche, doesn't it?"

* * *

She had no idea how long she had been there; after both Special Agent Shaw and Dr. Burke had interrogated her, Esposito had come by to escort her to holding. She had asked about Castle, whether she could speak to him, but Esposito hadn't budged. His face had remained stoic, as he led her through the bullpen down to lockup.

And ever since, she had been alone. The minutes ticked by slowly, without any sign of anyone or anything. She grew restless, the bars of her cage reminding her of her time in the basement. The moment her lips had met Castle's, the moment she had experienced that overwhelming feeling of ecstasy, all memories had come pouring in. It's like the veil over her memories of him had been lifted.

And with the light, darkness entered as well. She remembered how she had gotten a phone call from Madi at 3:30 am, completely in distress. Castle had been snoring softly beside her. She had stayed for a minute longer, just to look at his features, dimly lit by the moon that occasionally travelled through the curtains. How much she had wanted to stay in the comfort and warmth of his bedroom, but her friend needed her.

She had brushed a kiss on his soft lips; he had stirred slightly at her touch. Then she had gotten dressed quickly, her bra forgotten in the process as she rode the elevator down. She hadn't taken more than two steps out of Castle's building, when hands had grabbed her from behind, and pushed her into a car.

Pills had been forced into her mouth; and all that came next were blurry one-shots. She had been in a warehouse of sorts. In her hands a knife had been. Her arms moving in a forceful downward motion, blood splatters everywhere.

When Tyson had kidnapped her once again, she had known this would be their end. Castle would fall into his trap, she would be forced to watch as he would blow up the warehouse, and then he would kill her. But that never happened. Instead Tyson had crumbled to the ground. A needle had been jabbed into her shoulder, and she had woken up in a basement.

For the first few days, she had put up a fight. Screaming every time they entered the room, hoping that someone would hear her, that Castle would come and rescue her. They had interrogated her, asked her about a man with white hair. After a week, the exhaustion and lack of food and water had taken its toll. It was only then that she finally got to see him; Gregor Volkov. And with him, the subject changed. Castle now the main topic.

* * *

"Castle, we've got a new location on our suspect. Want to join us? It's on 2nd street in Brooklyn Navy Yard," she heard Ryan's voice. They must be passing on their way out.

"Yeah, sure," she heard his voice reply. Footsteps were approaching; Beckett got up from the bench.

"Hey, Reggie," she stuck her head through the bars, the young cop's head turned in passing.

"Detective Beckett," he smiled at her, looking around to see if no one was paying attention and then made his way over to her cell.

"How've you been? I've heard you've been promoted since I last saw you at the three-legged race," she batted her eyes lightly, her hand reaching for his shoulder through the bars.

His eyes lowered to her hand, blood travelling up his neck.

He flexed his arms a bit as he proudly said: "Got the new badge last month, mam."

"Say, Reggie," she played with the lapels of his shirt, "this has all just been one big misunderstanding. If I could just talk to Castle for a second, explain to him what really happened," she smiled at him innocently, expectantly. He hesitated, looking around again.

"Come on, Reggie. You know me. Why would I want to hurt Castle?" she leaned in a little closer.

"Alright, fine. But I was never here," he said as he fumbled with his keys before opening the lock.

"Thanks, Reggie," she said as she gave him a peck on the cheek before leaving.

Exiting the precinct had been easier than she had expected. They must have been keeping the assault private, because no one batted an eye when she came in to collect her gun and badge. On her way out though, a voice called out to her.

"Kate? Is that you?" she turned around, only to be surprised by Tom Demming, her ex and detective in robbery.

"Hey, Tom. How've you been?" she took a step sideways, because one of the desk clerks was eying her suspiciously.

"I'm great. How about you? I heard you got kidnapped, and then lost your memory?" he gave her a worried look.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine, though. Still don't remember," she said lightly, "hey, I would love to catch up, but I've kind of got to go."

"Right, of course. Hang in there, Kate," he gave her a sincere smile.

* * *

The night was dark by the time she made her way to the Brooklyn Navy yard. She couldn't take her Crown Vic, avoiding the risk that Captain Gates got wind of her escape. The street was empty, and chilly. Summer had come to an end. She was surrounded by warehouses and boat hangars. Esposito's car was parked on the corner. On alert, she made her way over. She saw a figure in the distance, a silhouette in the shade of a lamppost.

She approached carefully, but her stiletto heels echoed off the buildings.

"Kate?" his voice resounded. He took a step forward, the light hitting his features.

"Hey Castle," she replied, her hand closing on her gun.

"How'd you get here? I- I thought you were in holding," he took another step forward.

"They let me go, Castle. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me, something triggered me," she said, coming closer. _A little closer. Come on Castle…_

"Something triggered you? Beckett, you tried to kill me," _there, perfect._

"Yeah, and unfortunately," she raised her arm, "I failed."

A shot was fired. Castle's face surprised. He looked down as blood colored his shirt. His fingers touched the wound, he looked up again.

"Kate," he whispered faintly as he fell to the ground.

She approached him, ready to fire another round if need be. But there he lay, unmoving. And suddenly, like a cold shower, the reality of what had just happened sunk in. As if awoken from a deep slumber, the hold Volkov had over her cleared away as Kate's eyes opened for the first time since she had been kidnapped.

_Where am I?_

She looked down, a gun in her hand.

Recently fired.

Her heart quickened.

_What have I done?_

In front of her a body. She recognized those shoes; Cast-

"Castle," she yelled out, discarding the gun, falling to her knees by his side.

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god._

It was as if someone had ripped out her heart; and set it aflame.

_What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?_

She gagged; unable to look at his white stricken face. She clenched his drenched shirt in her fists, as she creamed out.

_Come on Castle, don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead._

"Oh, god. Castle," she sobbed, almost choking in her own tears. The world was spinning. She couldn't have kil-

"Please Rick, please," she roared, her head buried in his neck.

Her world had ended.

Richard Castle was dead.

And she, she was the damn fool that shot him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pastiche= An artistic work in a style that imitates that of another work, artist or period.


	18. Part III: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: One last time… (yes, this is a reference to Hamilton) these characters aren't mine and will never be mine. Andrew Marlowe and his characters will always hold a special place in my heart.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there. She was cold, dehydrated, her knees ached. To her the world had stopped. Her entire body was trembling, her fingers cramped from clenching his shirt too tightly. There were no tears left to cry; the wind painful to her face.

She could still smell him; his cologne. His aftershave; her comfort. She slightly moved her head, when she first heard it. It was faint, a cough of sorts. Then, she felt his body move; his chest rise. A louder cough, and Castle awoke.

"Castle?" she yelped out; she couldn't believe her eyes. His piercing blue eyes staring back at her, a slight smile on his face she thought she had lost forever.

"You have a strong grip," was the first thing he said, rubbing his chest where her fists had just been.

"I thought I killed you," she pushed him back on the ground in anger, hard.

"Auch, could you stop that?" he tried to sit back up.

"I thought I lost you, you-" she cried out, as she threw herself at him, taking in his scent.

She felt the rumble of his voice, his arms holding her tightly: "No, never Kate."

_He's alive._

They held on to each other, equally seeking and providing each other comfort.

Eventually, Castle started to move, to get themselves up right.

"So you don't want to kill me anymore?" he looked at her hesitantly.

"Kill you? I want to kiss you," she said, as she pressed her mouth to his. She was needy, her hands pulling his face closer; never wanting to let go of him ever again. He responded with matching force, a growl escaped. Eventually they stopped to catch their breaths, maintaining their closeness.

She couldn't believe that he was alive; he wasn't dead. He was right there with her.

"Yo, Castle. Can we come out already?" Esposito's voice resonated across the street.

"Right, I forgot," he mumbled against her lips, which made her smile against his. He turned his head a little, and shouted back: "We're alright, mission accomplished!"

Beckett let out a laugh, giving him a playful stump, which earned her another kiss.

Then they broke away, as Ryan, and Esposito came out, followed by Captain Gates and Special Agent Shaw.

"Kate," Ryan called out, relieved to see his colleague was finally back to her old self. Avoiding his wounded shoulder, Beckett gave him a little fist bump, after which she gave Esposito a hug.

"Javi," she said.

"Nice to have you back, Beckett. It wasn't the same with mister whiney over there," Esposito joked.

"Hey-" Castle was about to object, but Beckett intertwined her hand in his, and gave him a soft look; the one he hadn't seen in over two months, the one she only reserved for him.

"Detective Beckett, Mister Castle," Captain Gates halted in front of them; she seemed relieved. Castle was afraid Beckett would let go of him, at the sight of her superior but she didn't. Instead, she gave him a squeeze, before she spoke.

"Captain Gates; I don't even know where to start. I-"

"How about you and Mr. Castle get yourselves cleaned up first, and we'll talk tomorrow," she eyed the fake blood splattered on both their shirts.

"That sounds good, Sir," she nodded in relief that she didn't need to go back to the precinct tonight for a statement and the inevitable mountain of paperwork that awaited her.

"Very well, have a good night, then," she said, already headed towards her car. Jordan Shaw who had remained quiet during their little talk, stepped forward now.

"Detective Beckett, Castle; glad to see you're both alright. And if I may say so, what an absolutely stellar performance on the whole romantic angle. It was a nice touch," she winked; Beckett flushed.

"Agent Shaw, how could we ever thank you," Castle reached out his hand, but she declined. Kate glanced sideways, wondering the extent of Shaw's involvement in the case. She was sure Castle would tell her soon.

Shaw waved away Castle's hand and said:

"How about next time, you invite me for something more joyous, huh?" and with that, she left too. Which left the four of them.

"How did you do it? How did you know any of this would work?"

Esposito was about to respond when Castle interrupted:

"Sorry, but could we get out of here. The shirt is really icky, and I kind of got to go to the bathroom," he said to which the other three all burst out in laughter.

"What?" he asked, worriedly.

"You're funny," she replied tugging him towards Esposito's car, while the boys kept laughing.

On the car ride back to the city, they explained to Beckett how they had figured out what Volkov's plan had been all along and how they could break his hold over her.

"When Shaw compared Volkov's daughter to our situation, I finally understood what his plan had been all along," Castle said. He retold how his daughter had been tortured and consequently killed her fiancé.

"I figured that's what he tried to do to us too. He convinced you to kill me; and once you would have succeeded, you'd wake up and have to come to terms with what you had done. The reason why the other CIA agents never recovered is because they never got to finish off their list of targets," they were sitting in the back of Esposito's car, Kate's head resting on his shoulder as he spoke. She frowned, however, wondering why Volkov would choose them. But she decided to keep it for later, sensing that she would be entering a grey area.

"How come I couldn't remember you? That didn't happen to any of the others?" she asked instead.

"Dr. Burke had a nice theory about that," Ryan said from the front.

"Yeah, he figured that it was your mind's way of protecting Castle from being killed by you," Esposito continued.

"It would have worked too probably," Castle's voice rumbled, "if it weren't for my amazing kissing skills that unlocked your memories of me," he said dramatically, which earned him another slap across the chest. She hid her reddened face from Esposito's smirking eye in the front mirror.

She scraped her throat.

"So how did you do it? How'd you know I'd follow?"

"Well, that part was easy really. We just had to make sure you heard where we'd be going; we sent in Reggie just in case. He's always had a crush on you so we figured you wouldn't get too suspicious when he let you out that easily," Castle replied.

"We were banking on you using a gun, so we filled yours with blanks, and Reggie's too for good measure," Esposito said.

"And what about Tom?"

"Demming? What about him?" Castle turned his head with a hint of jealousy, forcing Kate to sit straight again.

"I met him in the lobby. He wasn't part of the plan?"

"Uh, no. Must have been a coincidence," Ryan said from the front.

"Anyway," Castle said loudly, "the rest was just a waiting game. We figured I'd have to play dead for at least a few minutes, so you'd be convinced I was really dead and you wouldn't choke me again," a pang of guilt went through her whole body, which he immediately relieved by the stroke of his hand on hers, and a look that said "don't worry, it isn't your fault," knowing her train of thought too well.

"Et voila, the rest is history," he winked at her, before stealing a kiss.

* * *

They had been dropped off at Castle's loft; saying their goodbyes before riding the elevator up. They were silent, her resting on him. Their hands intertwined. When they entered the loft, it was dark and silent. His mother had gone on a spa retreat and Alexis was in her dorm at Columbia.

"You want something to eat?" Castle proposed, not moving any further into the apartment, not wanting to create any more distance between them than was absolutely necessary.

"I just want to get out of these clothes to be honest," she said looking down on both their clothes. They were sticky, red and wet.

Castle did a double take on her comment, but she nudged him: "Not like that silly. Come on," she grabbed his hand and tugged him through the study towards where she guessed his bathroom to be. Once inside, she started unbuttoning his shirt.

"The man, the one with the white hair," she said, clearing Castle's head from the many scenarios that had just entered his brain.

"What about him?" he asked, mimicking her movements, slowly discarding her of her pieces of clothing.

"Who is he to you?" she asked, her eyes on her work.

He didn't answer immediately. It would make sense that she would want to know. Knowing what Volkov's plan was didn't explain why they had been at the heart of it. While he had already decided to keep his father's identity to himself, he felt like he owed her at least an explanation; an answer that could help her move on from everything.

"He's my father," he mumbled. Her fingers stopped working on his zipper, she looked up at him, surprised, and empathetic.

"He's a spy; he's the reason why his daughter's dead. When Tyson abducted you, he wanted to save you-"

"And Volkov figured out who I was and what I meant to you," she concluded.

"I'm sorry Kate, this is all my fault," he lowered his eyes dejectedly.

"Hey, no. Rick look at me," she reached for his chin, when he returned his gaze, his eyes were glistening.

"This is not your fault, nor is it your father's. The only one at fault here is the one who kidnapped me. And…," she paused for a second," he's dead, Castle. So is Tyson. They're not going to hurt you or me ever again. So, if it's alright by you," she stepped out of her trousers, and lowered his underwear, "I'd like to move on from all of this, and finally get to experience that shower of yours that you've been boasting about endlessly," she fake whined, after which she raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"You don't need to tell me twice, Detective Beckett," he quipped as he picked her up. She yelped as he transported her towards the calling warmth of his multi-sprayer shower.

* * *

His eyes were closed. But only just. A sharp ray of sunlight had managed to sneak between the blinds and hit his eyes precisely. He grumbled, moving his body sideways. His arm laid out stretched as a sudden jolt went through his body. The images of last night entered his mind; her lips on his. Them together under the hot spray of his shower, before finally finding the comfort of his bed.

He had her back, finally. After two months of worrying, continued blows, and near-death experiences; there she finally was.

He stretched out his arm, and the jolt returned. He opened his eyes. He looked over sideways to find his bed to be empty apart from himself. Maybe she had woken up earlier than him; or maybe he had dreamed it and he hadn't rescued her at all. He went with his hand through his hair, shaking of this idea. And then he heard footsteps. He turned his head to the left.

The first thing he saw were her legs; long and bare. Then one of his shirts. She was carrying two cups of coffee, a grin painted her face.

"Made you a coffee," she said, raising the two mugs slightly.

"So it wasn't a dream," his eyes trailed her movements towards his side of the bed.

"No," she chuckled as she handed him one of the mugs," you definitely weren't dreaming."

"You were right, I had no idea," he said, grateful that finally, he was able to have his morning after with the love of his life.

"So you liked it," she asked shyly.

"Yeah."

"Even the part where-"

"Especially that part, I love that" he agreed one hundred percent.

"Good, me too," she lowered her gaze, her hair falling in front of her eyes.

"So, I guess you'll have to leave soon, right? Have your talk with Gates?" he tried to remain clear-headed, not let his thoughts drift to the far better things he could see them doing on this lovely morning.

"Actually," she looked back at him, "Ryan called me. He said that he had a talk with Gates, and she allowed me to take a few days off. The case is done, and apparently, my talk with Dr. Burke was enough information to clear everything up with OnePP. She told Ryan that as long as I keep going to therapy, she doesn't see any problem in me coming back to work on Monday."

"And what about us? I mean I'm pretty sure she saw us. Do we-" he asked hesitantly as he placed both their mugs on the bedside table. He wasn't sure how Kate viewed their relationship; were they in one? And if so, he wasn't too sure Gates would appreciate it; with her always wanting to find a reason to give him the boot.

"Ryan said she was aware of it; she said that as long as we keep things professional in the work place, we are allowed to be together," she smiled, her eyes never leaving his. She started to unbutton the shirt she was wearing.

"I see, so what do you want to do today?" he asked, as he softly pushed the shirt of her shoulder.

"Um, I don't know, we could read," she proposed.

"We could watch TV," he countered.

"Yeah, we could get something to eat?"

"We could do that, yeah," she leaned over, and kissed him.

While it had taken them four years to get together, another two months to get their morning after, Kate was sure that whatever was headed their way, they'd be ready. Her recovery would be a long one, she knew she'd have nightmares for months to come; but at least, she wouldn't have to go through it alone. Castle would be right by her side; every step of the way.

Always.

**Fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> Thank you so so much for everything! Your interest, your support, your lovely reviews. After a year of reading Castle fanfiction night after night, I finally dared to write one myself, and boy am I grateful that I did.
> 
> I had an absolute blast writing this story, and loved to read every word you wrote me. This project seems to be my first ever New Year's resolution that has come to fruition. So thank you for being a part of it all.
> 
> This is where we part for now; but who knows... maybe the inspiration fairy will strike again one of these days :)  
> I wish you all the best and lots of love.
> 
> Yours truly,
> 
> A small girl with big dreams


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